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FAMILY SERMONS 



SERMONS 



ACCOMPANIED BY 



SUITABLE PRAYERS, 



DESIGNED TO BE USED IN FAMILIES 



FIRST AMERICAN, 
FROM THE FIRST LONDON EDITION 



BEING THE SECOND VOLUME 
EDITED BY THE REV. J. R. BEARD 



BOSTON: 

LEONARD C. BOWLES. 

1832. 

DVILLE 
THEOLOGICAL 'SCHOOL 



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BOSTON: 

Waitt & Dow, Printers, 122 Washington Street. 






ADVERTISEMENT 

TO THE FIRST AMERICAN EDITION. 



The favorable reception which was given to the first 
volume of Mr Beard's collection of Family Sermons, 
has induced the American Editor to offer the religious 
public another volume of the same work. It is believed 
that it will be found, in no respect inferior to the one 
which preceded it. It contains Discourses on some of 
the most important topics of Christian doctrine and du- 
ty, which are no less valuable for the ability with which 
they are composed than for the excellent spirit which 
they breathe. They exhibit a happy union of sound 
theology and earnest feeling which is well adapted at 
once to enlighten and warm, to convince and persuade, 
the candid and attentive reader. Some of the best 
discourses in this collection will be regarded as fine 
specimens of chaste and eloquent pulpit instruction; 
while there are few of them which do not rise above 
the ordinary level of modern printed sermons. 

The present volume is enriched with contributions 
from M. Cellerier and other distinguished preachers of 
Geneva, as well as with three discourses from well 
known and highly esteemed clergymen of our own city. 
The Editor commends it to the Christian public, with 
the hope that it may find a ready welcome in the circle 
of the family and in the retirement of the devout, and 
prove an efficient aid in the cause of fervent piety and 
practical goodness. 

Boston, May, 1832, 
2 



ADVERTISEMENT 



TO THE FIRST LOJVDOJY EDITION 



If the tone of this volume should seem to some too 
elevated, in a literary point of view, to answer the pur- 
poses for which it is designed, the Editor begs it may be 
borne in mind, that he wished to provide discourses to 
be read by heads of families themselves, and by those 
of their children who had come to riper years, as well as 
to the assembled family circle, or specially to servants. 
For whomsoever designed, discourses are not the worse, 
but the better, which, instead of being a series of 
common- place truths, expressed in plain — that is, as 
commonly understood, common-place— language, rouse 
the understanding by a display of thought, fix the 
attention by novelty, at least, of manner, and im- 
prove the taste by correctness and energy of style. 
The capacity of the laboring classes is often under- 
rated, and, in consequence of a false estimate, supplied 
with nutriment, which, when not refused, is fitted for 
little else than to realise the misconceptions which 
determined its nature. There is often in them a rug- 
ged and active strength, which nauseates the polished 
truisms, and tranquil, not to say somnolent, tenor, of 
ordinary sermons, and gladly welcomes the strong meat 
which is offered them by those who know somewhat 
accurately their capabilities and wants. 



11 

The Editor is not without a fear, that, to some extent, 
the tone of sermons is, in more than one denomination, 
too poor in thought, and tame in manner, to effect 
much for the great objects of Christianity. Something 
is needed, in these times, more than a dry detail of trite, 
vague, and powerless observations, however true, and, 
if acted on, however useful. The intellect must be 
roused, exercised, tasked ; the heart must be moved, 
smitten, elevated ; truth should be exhibited in its appli- 
cations to actual life and modes of thought, illustrated by 
the new lights and views which an age of extraordinary 
mental activity and developement offers, and impreg- 
nated with the living fire of a mind that sees the Gospel 
in its application to the world, and the world in the 
light and prospects afforded by the Gospel. If the age 
be distinguished for mental activity, it requires, no one 
can doubt, not vapid inanities, not polished disquisitions, 
but spirit-stirring exhibitions of the great principles of 
man's duty and expectations ; and unless the pulpit 
furnish these out of the hearts of men who have vital 
energy within them, who have partaken of the prevalent 
mental energy, and are glad to cast down their richest 
gifts at the feet of Jesus, the ministry of the word will 
sink into contempt, and, in its fall, religion suffer an 
injury that generations may be unable to repair. 

So far is the Editor from thinking the intellectual 
character of these discourses too high, that he would 
gladly see the highest powers of the highest and strong- 
est minds devoted to the service of the pulpit, and then 
perhaps it would be found out, that what has some- 
times been thought profundity, has been but dulness, 
and that the much deprecated style of alleged rneta- 



12 

physical preaching is often as guiltless of thought, as it is 
acknowledged to be of feeling : then, as iu all kinds of 
literature, that would be deemed the best discourse, 
which most effectually secured the proposed ends : 
then it would appear, that elegance of wrtitng is not 
incompatible with greatness of effect ; that to move, you 
need not descend ; that to be understood, you need not 
be common-place ; and that to prepare a discourse, 
which is to be pronounced from the pulpit, not read 
in the study, or if read in private, read with a view 
to exercise the heart at least as much as the mind ; 
which should, therefore, deal in address, not disquisi- 
tion ; which should abound in appeal, not syllogisms ; 
which should aim to move, much more than to teach — 
that to prepare a discourse in the style of an essay, is a 
miserable mistake, that impeaches the taste as much as 
the heart of a Christian minister. With these views of 
what a discourse should be, the Editor has great plea- 
sure in directing attention to the sermons, with which 
his volume is enriched and adorned, from the pens of 
Ministers who hold a high station in the Church of 
Geneva. Thinking, as he does, that they approach to 
what a sermon ought to be, he takes the liberty to 
express a hope, that they may exercise an influence in 
this country, by showing how admirably literary excel- 
lence may be harmonized with forcible writing and 
powerful appeal. There may be those, who, forgetting 
what is the legitimate object of pulpit addresses and 
moral admonitions, may, under the influence of a taste 
as false as it is fastidious, pronounce them too decla- 
matory ; but glad would the Editor be, to abide by the 
result of an appeal to Christian men and women, made 



13 

by the introduction into our pulpits and closets of dis- 
courses conceived and executed in the same style as are 
they. 

Had the volume been all that the Editor could have 
wished, a greater portion of the matter would have 
related immediately to the life, death, character, work, 
and offices of Jesus Christ ; and it would have been, 
more fully than it is, a representative of that body of 
Christians, who, with many diversities, have this feature 
in common, that they disown the heathenish invention 
of three persons in the one God of the universe. De- 
sirous as he is of seeing all those who are thus united 
in sentiment — in a truth, whose consequence language 
can but faintly set forth — united in heart, mind, and 
effort, the Editor will be gratified if the reception of 
this volume be so favorable, as to authorize him to 
use his efforts for inserting in a third and last volume, 
discourses from those Anti-trinitarian communions from 
which he has not yet obtained contributions. 

Great as is the importance of most of the subjects 
treated of in this volume, the Editor feels assured that 
many will think with him, in placing before all others 
the merciful attention to the moral and spiritual wants 
of the neglected poor, which is enforced in a manner 
that does equal credit to his principles as a Christian 
and his talents as a writer, in the sermon by Dr Tuck- 
erman. The Editor ventures to entertain a hope, that 
this discourse may do something to forward the esta- 
blishment, in this country, of missions similar to that 
which exists in Boston ; and to lead the members of 
families to use — each and all, the young and the old, 
male and female — to use their influence in exertions, 



14 

made by themselves, not by proxy, in a degree greater 
than may have hitherto been done, to improve the moral, 
spiritual, and physical condition of the poor and depraved 
of their respective neighborhoods. 

Unwilling that his faults should be imputed to 
others, the Editor thinks it just to remark, that he is 
answerable for the translation of the sermons furnished 
by the Divines of Geneva, and for the prayers which 
follow the 7th, 8th, 12th, 16th, and 27th discourses. 

Manchester, October, 1831. 



CONTENTS. 



Sermon I. The Gospel a Blessing to the Poor. 

Rev. J. Tuckerman, D. D. Boston, U. S. 17 
Sermon II. The Bereaved Parent Comforted. 

Rev. J. C. Ledlie, D. D. Lame, Ireland. 47 
Sermon III. The Humility of Christ. Rev. J. J. Tayl'er. B. A. 63 
Sermon IV. On Self-Recollection. Rev. Noah Jones. 75 

Sermon V. The New Year. The late Rev. J. H. Worthington. 92 

Sermon VI. The Parable of Nathan. Rev. John Reynell Wreford. 103 
Sermon VII. The Religion of Principle and the Religion of the 
Affections, Rev. Henry Ware, A. M. Professor of Pulpit Elo- 
quence and Pastoral Care, Harvard University, Boston, U. S. 117 
Sermon VIII. The Frailty of Human Life. 

The late Rev. John Hincks. 133 
Sermon IX. The Act of Creation an Emblem of the Christian's 

Duty. Rev. J. Johns. 147 

Sermon X. The Moral Influences of Christ's Death. 

Rev. E. Higginson. 159 
Sermon XI. A Message from God. Rev. G. Harris. 173 

Sermon XII. It is better to go to the House of Mourning, than to 

the House of Feasting. The late Rev. G. B. Wawne. 186 

Sermon XIII. Shame of the Gospel Reproved. 

M. Duby, Professor of Theology and Eloquence, Geneva. 201 
Sermon XTV. The Parables. Rev. E. TagarL 219 



16 

Sermon XV. To Persons in ihe Middle Period of Life. 

Rev. J. R. Beard. 236 
Sermon XVI. The Formation and Progress of the Christian Char- 
acter. Rev. F. Parkman, Boston. U. S. 252 
Sermon XVII. The Father's Name Glorified in Christ. 

Rev. James Maiiineau. 265 
Sermon XVIII. On Sincerity. Rev. W. H. Drummond, B. D. 282 

Sermon XIX. The Inconsistency, Absurdity, and Sin of Profess- 
ing Religion, without a Corresponding Conduct. 

Rev. Russell Scott. 305 
Sermon XX. The Connexion of the Resurrection of Christ with a 

General Resurrection. Rev. W. Turner. 323 

Sermon XXI. Christ the Giver of Life. Rev. J. G. Robberds. 338 

Sermon XXII. Spiritual Blessings in Christ. Rev. W. Gaskell. 355 
Sermon XXIII. Simon the Magician, or the Worlding subject to 
Two Masters. M . CelUrier, Jun. Professor of Criticism and 

Antiquities, Geneva. 369 
Sermon XXIV. The Connexion of Universal Being and its De- 
pendence upon a Benignant Providence. Rev. W. J. Fox. 387 
Sermon XXV. On "Watchfulness. M. Munier, Prof essor of Interpre- 
tation and Hebrew, Geneva. 400 
Sermon XXVI. Thoughtfulness in the House of God. 

M. CelUrier. 423 
Sermon XXVII. The Import and Application of glorifying God 

through Jesus Christ. Rev. L. Carpenter, LL. D. 438 

Sermon XXVIII. The Good of Afiiiction. M. Duby. 454 

Sermon XXIX. Charity a Two-fold Blessing. M. Munier. 468 

Sermon XXX. Christ the Saviour. Rev. H. Montgomery, M. A. 482 



SERMON I. 



THE GOSPEL A BLESSING TO THE POOR. 



Luke vi. 20. 

' BLESSED BE YE POOR, FOR YOURS IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.' 

By the word which is rendered poor, in the text, is 
meant the literally poor ; and I believe that our Lord 
referred, in these words, to the poor in respect to pro- 
perty, and to the means of living. But did he intend 
to hallow poverty, and to make it desirable to his fol- 
lowers ? When he said, " Wo unto you that are rich, 
for ye have received your consolation," did he mean to 
teach, that he who js rich in respect to the good things 
of this world, has no good to look for beyond the world ? 
that the blessings of his religion belong only to those, 
who relinquish all property in other objects than the 
spiritual blessings of his kingdom ? This cannot be ; 
for, unless there be property, there cannot be alms. If 
no one have anything which he can call his own, there 
can be none to give. But, giving to those who need, is 
a part of the benevolence, the virtue of Christianity. 
Why, then, was this wo pronounced upon the rich ? 
and why this blessing upon the poor? My friends, 
3 



18 

'there is much in these words of Christ, which is of deep 
concern to the rich, as well as to the poor. For who is 
the rich man that has received his consolation, and has 
nothing to hope for in the eternallife before him ? Can 
a condition more pitiable than his be imagined? And 
who is the poor man, that may look with confidence to 
the eternal possessions of the kingdom of God in hea- 
ven ? To obtain a part in his condition, even at the 
expence of a thousand worlds, would be unspeakable 
gain. 

Why, then, was a blessing pronounced by our Lord 
Jesus Christ upon the poor? This is the question 
which I propose to answer. 

To understand our Lord's language in the text, and 
in many other passages of his instructions, we must 
bring them into the light of the great doctrines and ob- 
jects of his religion, respecting the immediate and final 
purposes of God in regard to the race, and each indi- 
vidual of it. Our Lord Jesus Christ speaks continually 
of man, and to men, as immortal beings ; as beings of 
a common nature, who are placed in this world for 
trial, discipline, probation ; and who are to seek their 
highest immediate good in that, which will be, to 
all who attain it, an eternally possessed, and an 
eternally increasing good. Jesus Christ never views 
man merely as a creature of earth ; a creature of a day, 
or of time. Every human being, as seen by him, has 
the capacities of an undying nature. Every human 
being is a subject of the moral government of God, 
must give account to him, and will be happy or miser- 
able beyond the grave, according to the deeds done in 
the body. And the end of every allotment of God's 



19 

providence is, the piety and virtue of those who are the 
subjects of this providence ; because, in this piety and 
virtue alone consists the true, the ever enduring, and ever 
enlarging happiness of immortal natures. Whatever, 
then, conduces to this piety and virtue, — in other words, 
to the knowledge, and love, and service of God ; to the 
trust in him, and the submission to him, to which he 
calls us ; whatever brings the soul to christian humility, 
and purity, and benevolence, and to the simplicity, 
fidelity and sanctity, which are the conditions and laws 
of the eternal blessedness of heaven, in the view of 
Jesus Christ, is good. It is good, because it conduces to 
the greatest possible good. It is happy, because it 
qualifies for perfect and eternal happiness. Nay, it is 
good, because it is itself the purest, and highest, and 
most perfect happiness of which man is capable. And 
whatever disqualifies for the pure and perfect enjoyment 
of God in heaven; that is, whatever represses, or 
checks, the love of God in the soul; whatever occasions 
confidence in ourselves, or the world, instead of raising 
our hearts to himself as the supreme object of trust; 
whatever inspires us with pride, or vanity, or leads us 
into the smallest injustice, or blunts our sensibility to 
the wants and sufferings of others ; whatever causes us 
to forget our immortality and accountableness, or in any 
respect to live as immortal and accountable beings, 
under the influences of his religion, should not live ; 
this, in theview of Jesus Christ, and of his whole Gos- 
pel, is evil. And it is as great an evil, as the conse- 
quences are great and terrible that may result from it. 
Into the light of these great, essential, elementary prin- 
ciples of our religion, we are then to bring riches and 



20 

poverty, health and sickness, power and weakness, and 
all the diversities which we find in the endowments and 
conditions of men, if we would reason and infer concern- 
ing them as Christians ; if we would understand the lan- 
guage and sentiments of our Lord respecting them ; if 
we would ourselves escape the woes, and obtain the 
blessings of his Gospel. Guided by these great princi- 
ples, let us then inquire, why did Jesus Christ pro- 
nounce a blessing upon the poor ? 

I answer, and I think it is the answer of the spirit of 
the Gospel, that it was because he had brought a religion 
into the world, which was suited, as no other religion 
was, and as no mere human institutions could be, to 
all the wants, and sufferings, and interests of the poor ; 
a religion, which, in proportion as it is understood, and 
received, and practised, will make, and cannot but 
make, the poor blessed, happy. Our Lord Jesus Christ 
did not come to banish poverty from the w 7 orld. The 
causes of the inequality of property lie as deep in the 
principles of human nature, as those of the inequality of 
physical strength, or of intellectual capacity. Let his 
Gospel even be universally received, and universally be 
made the rule of life, and there will still be not only the 
comparatively ignorant, and weak, and poor, but there 
will be those too, who, from the want of judgment, and 
of ability in various respects, will be wholly dependent 
on the care and kindness of others. It is very far from 
being a design of Christianity, to interfere with the nat- 
ural laws of the world. On the contrary, it recognizes 
these laws as institutions of God. Nor would it sub- 
vert the distinctions which are founded in these laws, or 
forbid any of the pursuits in which men may engage, 



21 

consistently with the maintenance of the piety and vir- 
tue which it teaches. It not only does not aim, there- 
fore, at a suppression of commerce, and the mechanic 
arts ; it not only would not mar the beautiful creations 
of genius in any of the departments of skill, or of taste ; 
or confound the ruler with the subject, the employer 
with the employed, or the head which devises with the 
hands w T hich execute ; but it would make each of the 
diversities of condition so produced, to conduce to the 
perfection of the moral order and happiness of the 
world. It recognizes nothing as an evil, but sin ; and 
it looks alone, in these respects, at the remedy, and the 
removal of the evils, which grow out of sin. It 
would recover men from all the ignorance, all the weak- 
ness, all the disease, all the poverty, and all the suffer- 
ings in every form, which are occasioned by violations 
of God's laws ; or, in other words, by sin. The world, 
as Christianity would have it to be, is as full of action, 
of enterprise, of energy, as is the world in which God 
is forgotten, and in which every one is living for him- 
self. But in the world, seen as our Lord Jesus Christ 
w r ould make it, the poor would be raised to a condition, 
to which nothing short of his religion can raise them. 
He would show us that poverty, in the design of God, 
is as benevolent an appointment as riches. He would 
make the poor, in the best sense of the words, rich, 
powerful, wise, happy. It is asked, how ? With the 
sentiment in the text in my mind, I will go among 
the poor. J, will endeavor to feel what Christ felt, 
and to speak to them in the spirit of Christ. In this 
view of it, I think that we shall obtain one of the 
highest manifestations of the glory and excellence of 



22 

our religion, and one of the most satisfactory of its 
internal evidences, that it is from God. 

I remark, then, first that Christianity is a religion 
adapted for the poor, and that it is an unspeakable 
blessing to the poor who receive it, and its doctrines 
respecting the character, government and purposes of 
God. 

I enter the room of a pious, poor family. Here is a 
widow with her three or four children. All is neat- 
ness and apparent comfort around her. You could 
hardly suspect that want is felt here. And yet, often 
she has not known in the morning how she should obtain 
provision for the day. Often she has felt great embar- 
rassment and difficulty, to determine by what means 
she may be enabled to pay her rent at the close of the 
week. . While she is in health, she can at best earn but 
five or six shillings, and sometimes but two or three, by 
the labors of a week. And when work fails her, or 
when her own, or the sickness of ach.ld, takes her from 
her accustomed labors, she not only has additional 
wants, but is driven to the accumulation of debt. Yet 
she never desponds. 1 speak to her of God's goodness, 
and her heart overflows with gratitude. She feels that 
she has that within, — a love of God and of her Saviour, 
a trust, a hope, a peace, which she would not exchange 
for all external good. I have no language in which to 
express my sense of the privilege of learning, from her 
conversation and her life, the value and excellence of 
that religion, on which rest all the hopes of my own 
soul. Here I see the power of the doctrines of the gos- 
pel of Christ, — of the doctrines of God's parental cha- 
racter, and love, and designs, — to enlighten, to direct 



23 

to support, to cheer, and to console, in the circumstan- 
ces which would seem to many to forbid even consola- 
tion. I leave her, and pass to the dwelling of an aged 
couple. The room in which they live is poor and old, 
and they have no means of adding to its comforts. 
They have scarcely strength to perform the most neces- 
sary labors for each other, and none by which they 
may earn the bread of the passing day. And yet I 
have never heard them complain. I ask them of the 
ground of their comfort, their contentment. It is the 
word which Jesus has spoken. They believe in God, 
in Christ, in heaven. They are humble, and patient, 
and resigned, because they believe that God has ap- 
pointed to them their trial ; and their strongest desire 
is, to be approved by him, and more essentially and per- 
fectly united with their Maker and their Saviour. They 
feel that they. are not forgotten, and are not forsaken, 
because they feel that their father is with them, and 
because they can pray. And in the hope that their 
repentance, and faith, and trust, and devotion are ac- 
cepted, they are looking for a part in the blessedness of 
the Christian's heaven. lam instructed, and comforted, 
and encouraged by all I have seen and heard in my inter- 
course with these poor followers of Jesus ; and I go from 
them to the most destitute, the most ignorant, the most 
vicious, to whom I would speak of the doctrines of our 
religion. 

Who is there of you, my friends, whom God has 
blessed with affluence, or with a competency of the good 
things of the world, and who has visited the abodes of 
the poor, and has not strongly felt the contrast even of 
outward condition, between the virtuous and the vicious 



24 

of this great class of society r And yet, even this con- 
trast is nothing, when compared with that of their 
moral condition. I need but name to you the thought- 
less, ignorant, reckless, improvident, intemperate poor, 
and, if you know them, I shall call up to your minds 
the associations of restlessness, dissatisfaction, complaint 
debasement, misery. But are these fellow-beings to be 
despised, avoided, abandoned to all the influences of 
their lawless appetites and passions ? Are there no good 
elements in the hearts even of the most vicious among 
them ? So have I not learned human nature ; and I 
pray God to preserve both you and me from the blasting 
influence of the sentiment, which would shut out one 
human being from our sympathy ; or close even against 
the greatest sinner, the hope of salvation, while God 
shall spare him, and while one means is yet left untried 
for his recovery. I would go, then, to the most fallen of 
our race, and speak to them of God, whose name they 
hardly know, but as they use it in the language of pro- 
faneness ; I would tell them, and as far as possible aid 
them to understand, and to feel, that he is their Maker, 
their Father, and has for them more than they can 
conceive of a father's love. T would tell them, that, 
equally for them, as for those who seem to be the most 
favored, God sent his Son with the message of grace 
and mercy, which we have in the gospel. I would reason 
with those who are living thoughtless of their souls, and 
of eternity, who are complaining of their condition, and 
are outraging God's laws, and do what I can to convince 
them, that this Almighty Father is in truth no respec- 
ter of persons ; that he has as deep an interest in them 
as in the richest in the world ; that they are, not to be, 



25 

but already, immortal beings ; that poverty and riches 
are alike trials ; and that the poorest on earth, though, 
like Lazarus, he should be left to die by the way-side, 
an unpitied beggar, may, and will, if the purposes of 
his trial are accomplished in him, be carried by angels' 
to Abraham's bosom. I would say to him, who feels 
that he is cut off from all his race, except those who 
are as poor as himself, " You are my brother, and the 
brother of the wisest, the richest, the most powerful and 
the most honored of men." I would say to him, who 
tells me that he knows not God, " You are God's child; 
and he calls you to be an heir of heaven, and a joint 
heir of Christ. From this dark and cold chamber, and 
from that poor bed, you may offer prayers, as acceptable 
as I can offer ; prayers, which will ascend to the throne 
of mercy, and bring down for you an inestimable good ; 
the good of a sense of God's presence with you, for 
your support and comfort, and of his holy spirit to aid 
you in every duty. You are indeed a sinner: but so 
am I ; and, equally as I, you have the promise, that 
if sin be confessed and forsaken, it will be forgiven. 
You want, and you suffer. But you are not unregarded 
by God in one want, in one suffering ; and many thou- 
sands, through want and suffering, as great as yours, 
have passed into eternal glory and blessedness. You 
would have many wants, and many sufferings, even if 
you were rich ; and you are not sure that you would 
bear the trial of riches, better than that of poverty. 
There is not a hope of the Gospel, there is not a pro- 
mise of heaven, which God is not addressing to yourself. 
Do what God commands, live as God would have you 
live, and your very poverty may be the means to you 
4 



26 

of everlasting riches. Believe in God, and be a true 
disciple of Christ, and in a short while you will be with 
the just made perfect of all ages and nations ; you will 
be equal to the angels of God in heaven ; you will be 
with Jesus Christ, and be like him who has loved you, 
and who has died to redeem you ; and you will know 
God more perfectly, and infinitely more enjoy him, for 
you will see him as he is. There you will hunger no 
more, neither will you thirst any more, nor be weary, 
nor anxious, nor exposed to temptation, or sorrow, or 
sin, or death." Are not these doctrines to enlighten, to 
strengthen, to encourage, to improve, and to rejoice the 
poor who receive them ? — " Children of poverty, your 
Father in heaven forgets you not. He has sent to you 
the glad tidings of his love, his compassion, his readi- 
ness to hear and answer all your prayers, and to for- 
give your sins ; and, though you may not be able to 
call a foot of all this earth your own, he is offering to 
you eternal possessions. Believe in him, believe in his 
Son Jesus Christ, understand the excellence of the 
capacities of your immortal nature, and act under a 
conviction of God's constant parental government and 
designs, of your own responsibility, and of the reality 
and glory of the heaven to which he is calling you, 
and will your poverty be intolerable ? Or rather, with 
this faith, this sense of your relation to God, and with 
the Christian's hope in your soul, may you not be happy, 
even under the greatest earthly deprivation, and earthly 
suffering ?" If I look not beyond this single view of 
the tendency of Christianity upon the mind, the heart, 
the whole condition of the poor, I feel that there is 
much, very much, that is most deeply interesting in the 



27 

language of Christ : " Blessed be ye poor, for yours is 
the kingdom of heaven." I begin to understand in 
what consists the blessing, and how the poor are to be 
blessed, or to be made happy, by the gospel. 

But I would proceed another step. I would re- 
mark, secondly, that Christianity is a religion for the 
poor, and an unspeakable blessing to the poor who 
receive it, in its duties ; in all its offices of piety and 
virtue. 

Look at these duties, whether of piety, of personal 
or of social morality. Is there one, which the poorest 
may not practise ? Is there one, in which the poorest 
may not rise even to the highest excellence ? Is there 
one, to excellence in which, poverty may not even 
be made conducive ? Or, is there one, which, if faith- 
fully maintained, will not exert the happiest influence 
on the mind, even in the most indigent condition of 
human existence ? Our Lord Jesus Christ called the 
poor to happiness, by calling them to piety and virtue. 
He called them indeed to the only happiness, which 
can be possessed by the richest, the most favored of the 
race ; for, in truth, there is no enduring happiness, but 
that of the mind, — that of virtue. See, then, how ad- 
mirably Christianity is adapted to the happiness of those 
who, in the eye of the world, have nothing. 

The poorest, who has no leisure, and no means for 
the cultivation of other knowledge, can cultivate the 
self-knowledge to which the gospel calls him. The 
poorest, who can extend his influence to no other being, 
— who is even the slave of his more powerful brother, 
is called by our religion to the noblest liberty of man; to 
a liberty on which man can make no encroachment ; and 



28 

to the highest power which can be exercised by an intel- 
ligent and moral being, — power over his own soul, over 
his own will, and appetites, and passions. The poorest 
is called to humility, to benevolence, to industry, to pa- 
tience, to cheerfulness, to contentment, by the very mo- 
tives by which the richest are called to these virtues. 
And are not these the highest of the personal virtues of 
the Gospel ? Turn your thoughts also, for a moment, 
to its social virtues. Jesus Christ calls his disciples, he 
calls the poorest, to perfect truth and uprightness. And 
cannot the poor be as true and upright as the rich? 
He calls them to compassion, and candor, and forbear- 
ance, and forgiveness. And is poverty a bar to these 
essential virtues of the Christian character ; or, are 
they less precious in the sight of God in the poor, than 
in the rich ? He calls them to all the relative duties 
of domestie life. And may they not be faithful and 
affectionate husbands, wives, parents, children ; or, can 
they be faithful in these relations, and not be blessed ? 
Or, what is the office of Christian piety, which the 
poorest cannot practise ; or, which will not give a di- 
vine exaltation to the character, and impart the truest 
glory to the soul ? God requires their love, their trust, 
their gratitude, their submission, their prayers. He 
requires, too, their faith in him whom he has sent, their 
love of him, and their imitation of him. And what 
more does the Lord our God require of any one ? I 
go to the poor to converse with them of these duties of 
christian piety and virtue ; to do what I may, in aiding 
them to understand, and to comply with, these condi- 
tions, which God has bound up with the great and 
precious promises of his word. I go to them, remem- 



29 

bering that the day is near, very near, in which the wise 
and the ignorant, the employer and the employed, the 
rich and the poor, will stand together before God in 
judgment. And what will the most prospered one that 
lives carry with him out of this world ? What, beside 
his conscience, his soul ? All merely outward riches, 
all outward possessions, are left for ever. At the judg- 
ment seat of Christ, no one has any power, but that 
which he has acquired by virtue, and which is inherent 
in the virtue by which it was acquired. And no one 
has any riches, but the riches of the soul. There, the 
humblest is the most exalted ; the purest makes the 
nearest approach to God, and obtains the clearest vision 
of him ; and he is the richest of all, who has most of 
the spirit of Christ. Again I ask, then, is not Chris- 
tianity a religion for the poor ? Is it not most wisely 
and beneficently adapted to their condition? Is it not 
suited to bring to them the greatest of blessings, — the 
greatest attainable happiness ? " My friend," I say to 
the poor, " you are indeed called to great conflicts, to 
great sufferings. But even if you have not the 
means of purchasing your daily bread, you have 
the means of securing a condition of existence, in 
which you will never know a want. If you can 
possess no outward riches, you may yet possess those 
treasures which will remain to you, when all outward 
possessions shall have passed away. You are poor, in 
respect to this world's goods. But you may even now 
be richer towards God, and richer in the sight of God, 
than the possession of a thousand worlds could make 
you. Are you perfectly temperate, and just, and pure, 
and true, and are you constantly watchful against sin ? 



30 

Every exercise of these, and the other virtues of the 
gospel, every exercise of love to God, and to Christ, of 
love and fidelity to your fellow creatures, of self-com- 
mand, and of self-denial in the cause of duty, is a trea- 
sure laid up in heaven. You are indeed below many 
around you, in regard to outward possessions, and the 
means of temporal indulgence. But are you below any, 
in regard to opportunities for virtue, and to the means 
of eternal happiness ? Who on the earth may realize 
more of the anticipated blessedness of heaven, than the 
poor man, who is rich in christian piety and virtue ? 
With whom are the exercises of memory less painful, 
or to whom may the visions of christian hope be brighter, 
than to him ?" In this view of Christianity, then, I see 
still more clearly, and fully what our Lord meant, when 
he said, " Blessed be ye poor, for yours is the kingdom 
of heaven." Its duties are all within the ability of the 
poorest. The highest excellence in each of these duties 
may be reached even by the poorest. The poorest may 
even now possess all the elements of heaven in the soul; 
for the virtues of the gospel are the elements of heaven. 
And poverty, to those who will use it for their discipline 
and as the means of their trial, may be the excitement, 
and nutriment of all this piety and virtue ; and there- 
fore, the very means of eternal riches and blessedness. 

Again, in this connexion I cannot but remark, that 
Christianity is adapted for the poor, and that it becomes 
an unspeakable blessing to the poor who receive it, by 
the estimation in which it holds the desires and inten- 
tions of the heart to goodness, and the most secret 
struggles and sacrifices by which the principles of piety 
and virtue are maintained in the soul. 



31 

Christianity not only is not a religion of rites and 
forms, and of burdensome and expensive observances. 
We may say, comparatively, that it looks at nothing 
which is outward. It regards not as piety, or virtue, 
even the actions, the conduct, which have the greatest 
apparent conformity to its principles of duty, any far- 
ther than these actions, or this conduct, arise from the 
exercise of these principles in the heart. Its great doc- 
trine, in regard to all piety, to all virtue, to all true and 
enduring good and happiness, is, "the kingdom of 
God; "- — the reign of heaven, the conquests, triumphs, 
and the rewards of pure religion, are " within you" 
In the view of Jesus Christ, the" most acceptable sacri- 
fice which man can offer to God is, the sacrifice of self- 
interest to true disinterestedness ; the sacrifice of pride 
and vanity to the humility of the Gospel ; the sacrifice 
of an angry, or a jealous, or a covetous, or an impatient 
and discontented spirit, to the spirit of patience, and 
forbearance, and love. The most glorious victory 
achieved by any one in this life, in the view of our 
religion, is, the victory of Christian faith, and trust, 
and love, and resignation in the soul, over pain, and 
care, and loss, and injury, and want ; and the most glo- 
rious attainment to be made by any individual of the 
race is, dominion over his own thoughts, desires, ap- 
petites, passions and will. Is there scope, then, in any 
condition of man, for greater progress in the highest 
excellencies of the christian character, than among the 
poor ? You may be able to do nothing, my poor friend, 
which shall obtain for you the world's notice and ap- 
plause. But you have within you capacities, which, 
exerted for the purposes for which God bestowed them, 



32 

exerted for self-subjection, self-improvement, will make 
you an object of the joy and love of angels, who will 
look for an increase of their own happiness, in the union 
with themselves, for which your piety and virtue will 
prepare you. Say, then, in the time of your greatest 
necessity, and when you knew not where to look for re- 
lief, has it been the language of your heart, "Behold, 
God is my salvation, I will trust, and not be afraid ? " 
In the time when you have seemed to have been forgot- 
ten, and forsaken by all around you, has it been your con- 
solation, " I am not alone, because my Father is with 
me ? " When, in the time of your want, you have look- 
ed upon the abundant possessions and resources of oth- 
ers, have you repressed and subdued the rising desire, 
that you could call any of these possessions your own ? 
Have you seen those about you, or have you thought of 
those, who were living in overflowing sufficiency, while 
you knew not how to make provision for tomorrow ; and 
has the rising emotion of envy been quelled, by the 
strength of your desire to approve yourself, in your trial, 
to conscience, and to God ? Have you ever felt your- 
self to be oppressed and injured; and, in remembering 
those who have injured you, have you said, " Father, 
forgive them, for they know not what they do ? " Have 
you every day felt, that it is better to endure any suffer- 
ing, than the reproaches of a self-condemning mind ? 
Have you learned to contend with the very thought of 
sin, and to overcome it ? Do you shrink from impuri- 
ty, from injustice, from any indulgence which would de- 
base your nature, with greater dread than you would 
shrink from death ? Amidst your wants, are you daily 
grateful for what you have, — for the most common 



33 

blessings, and do you offer the prayers of a grateful heart 
to God? Do you feel God's goodness in the light of 
heaven, in the air you breathe, in your health, and in 
the cup of water, and the bread, you may alone have to 
sustain you ? — While I am thus conversing with the 
destitute and the suffering, I bring to my recollection 
the words of Christ, " the Spirit of the Lord is upon 
me, because he hath anointed me to preach glad tidings 
to the poor ; " and I feel that I am indeed preaching 
glad tidings to them, when, I am aiding them to under- 
stand, that in their poor apartments, or when they are 
abroad in their labors, and amidst all their privations, 
and even under the heaviest pressure of adverse circum- 
stances, unnoticed and without sympathy as they may- 
be, they may yet be maintaining the most exalted piety 
and virtue ; they may every day be not only advancing 
towards heaven, but actually obtaining, even here, more 
and more of the very spirit of heaven. For what is the 
spirit of heaven, but the spirit of truth, and purity, and 
justice, and benevolence, and gratitude, and trust, and 
devotion ? If the day laborer denies his appetites, 
when they tempt him to excess ; if he governs his pas- 
sions ; if he judges himself, in the discharge of his 
duties, by the principles by which he is to be judged 
before God ; and if he be faithful to the offices of chris- 
tian piety, think you that God, from his throne of glory 
in the heavens, sees on the earth one who is more an 
object of his interest, his regard, his favor, than this 
poor laborer? See what is the estimation in which 
God and our Saviour hold the desires, the motives, the 
well meant efforts of the most obscure, the most un- 
noticed of our fellow beings, in the piety and virtue to 
5 



34 

which the gospel calls us. " As Jesus sat over against 
the treasury, he beheld how the people cast money into 
the treasury. And many that were rich cast in much. 
And there came a poor widow, and she threw in two 
mites, which make a farthing. And he called unto him 
his disciples, and said unto them, verily I say unto you, 
that this poor widow hath cast more in, than all they 
that have cast into the treasury. For all they did 
cast in of their abundance. But she, of her want, did 
cast in all that she had, even all her living." 

Again : Christianity is adapted for the poor, scarcely 
less in the condition in which our Lord lived in the 
world, than it is in the doctrines and duties of his re- 
ligion. I refer to the circumstance, that the divine 
author and finisher of our faith was himself poor. 

When professing to bring glad tidings to the poor, 
Jesus stood before them, as one who was himself poor. 
They knew that he had no earthly possessions ; that 
he had not where to lay his head : they knew that, ex- 
cept when he partook of the food which was enlarged by 
his own miraculous power, he lived upon the bounty of 
those with whom he lived : and yet, they saw in him 
all the piety which he inculcated, and all the virtue to 
which he called those who heard him, — except repent- 
ance. They saw him, indeed, invested with an un- 
speakable dignity and grandeur. They saw him awak- 
en awe in the most powerful, and impose the strongest 
restraints upon the envy, and jealousy, and malignity 
of those, whose authority would have silenced, and 
whose resentment could at once have destroyed, any 
other than himself. And they saw him calm, secure, 
strong, undaunted, alone through the power of that very 



•35 

piety and virtue ; through which he was assuring them 
that they might obtain the greatest of blessings. This, 
to my mind, is a very sublime and attractive view of 
our Saviour, and of his religion. Upheld by no civil 
connexions, by no opulent relations; seeking no in- 
timacy with those who had hitherto exerted an uncon- 
troled influence over the multitude ; without any earthly 
offices, or honors, or compensations in any form, to 
give to those who should follow him ; watched at once 
with the meanest and the most virulent suspicion, by 
those who thirsted for his blood, and who had all the 
gifts in their disposal which the people could look for, 
as mere outward inducements to follow a leader ; the 
people still felt, that never man spake like this man, 
because they saw, that never man lived like this one. 
To the poor, then, I say, " Behold our master and 
Lord, as poor as you are. And does he, nevertheless, 
stand before you. in all the majesty of moral perfection ? 
This perfection, then, is consistent with poverty, and is 
attainable in poverty. As far as your soul is concerned, 
as far as the cause of your piety and virtue is concerned, 
as far as your hopes in eternity are concerned, you have 
no need of any mere outward, or worldly possessions. 
See him girded with a towel and washing his disciples' 
feet. Do you understand the principle of this con- 
descension ? That principle, living and acting in your 
own heart, will bring you into a nearer union with 
Christ, and to a better qualification for heaven, than to 
understand all the mysteries, about which men have dis- 
puted since they first began to differ in the world. Hear 
him, when he says to you, ' if any man will come after 
me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, 



36. 

and follow me.' That self-knowledge, and self-govern- 
ment, which he thus inculcated, that humility, and sub- 
jection of the will to duty, to which he thus calls us, 
confer on him who has them a nobler power, bring to 
him a richer treasure, and raise him to a higher excel- 
lence, than any other possession, or knowledge, or 
power can bring to man." — If Jesus Christ had come to 
the world invested with civil authority, and abounding 
in earthly riches, I need not ask, if his religion would 
have been of comparative interest, even to the most fa- 
vored among us ? I will not even ask you to indulge 
your imaginations on this supposition. But I may ask, 
identified as his religion is with himself, if it be not, in 
his very poverty, most admirably and happily adapted 
to the poor ? I may ask, if in the poverty of our Lord, 
the poor have not the most glorious illustration that 
could be given of the truth, that infinitely the highest 
possessions, — that is, all the piety and virtue of the 
gospel, — may be as fully attained even in the state of 
the greatest indigence, as in the most favored condition 
of human existence ? And is not this good news to 
the poor ? In this reference to our Lord himself, 
while pronouncing the blessing, do we not more fully 
comprehend the import of his words, " Blessed be ye 
poor, for yours is the kingdom of heaven ?" 

There is one other circumstance in this connexion, 
to which I attach great importance. I refer to the cir- 
cumstance, that Christianity is suited to extend un- 
speakable good to the poor, and in proportion as it is 
received, that it must be to the poor an unspeakable 
blessing, in the influences which it is intended to exert 
upon the rich. 



37 

We should want nothing more for illustration of our 
Lord's benediction in the text, if the objects of Chris- 
tianity in regard to the rich were but generally accom- 
plished in them. Could we but call into full action, in 
the hearts of those whom God has blessed with abun- 
dance, Christian sentiments respecting riches, — their 
purposes, and value ; Christian sentiments of the relation 
of man to his fellow men, and of all to God ; Christian 
sentiments of virtue, — of its incomparable worth and 
excellence ; and Christian sentiments of happiness, and 
its indissoluble connexion with virtue ; there would then 
be no want of interest in the condition of those, who are 
struggling with difficulty and poverty ; and no want of 
sympathy with those, who need pity, and care, and aid 
in their sufferings. Let those of us who are rich feel, 
as the gospel of Christ intends that we shall feel, that 
God has made us to differ from others, that we may be 
the instruments of his benevolence to others ; that our 
possessions are a trust, for which we must give account ; 
that the only enduring treasures are those of the soul ; 
that we shall soon be poorer than is the poorest now 
among us, if, in death, we are not found to be rich in 
the good works, — the works of benevolence, which our 
religion requires of us ; and, that all outward riches are 
in reality to any one a good, only as they are made the 
means of ministering to piety and virtue ; and every 
heart will be brought to the enlargement of a divine 
charity. Every one, then, in proportion as God has 
blessed him, will need no monitor but conscience, to 
excite him to every act of Christian love which he can 
perform. Every one in proportion as he is himself 
blessed, will then be God's minister, for the communi- 



38 

cation of blessings to his indigent brethren. 1 would 
not judge any rich man, and decide what he ought to 
do in any given case of charity. Nor would I condemn 
any rich man, as wanting the spirit of the gospel, be- 
cause he seems not to do what our religion plainly de- 
clares that he should do. Let every one judge himself, 
and act from the convictions of his own mind. But I 
may ask, if Jesus Christ does not require of the rich, 
equal humility as he requires of the poorest of his fol- 
lowers ? And, can a rich man possess the humble spirit 
of the gospel, and not be brought by it into a closer and 
more fraternal union with the poor ? Or, if Christian 
self-denial be understood, and faithfully maintained by 
a rich man, the denial as well of all unchristian love 
of his possessions, as of every other forbidden passion, 
and every other form and mode of selfishness, will he 
not in each exercise of this denial, at once be prepared 
for the exercise of a larger and a wider benevolence, 
and feel a nobler and a higher freedom in maintaining 
it ? Or, can a rich man bring his heart under the power 
of the words of Christ, " inasmuch as ye have been for 
succor to the tempted, for comfort to the distressed, 
and for the supply of want to the necessitous, ye have 
shewn this kindness unto me," and not esteem it the 
highest privilege of the distinction which his possessions 
give him, that he may be God's almoner to those who 
need his bounty ; and who, but for this bounty, must 
suffer, and will even probably fall into* the still greater 
miseries of sin ? Yes, I repeat it, let the rich be Chris- 
tians, and the poor are blessed. Let the rich be Chris- 
tians, and there not only will be no oppression, but, in 
all the transactions of life, there will be the most gene- 
rous consideration of the poor. Let the rich be Chris- 



39 

tians, and not the mere temporal wants only of the 
poor will be met and relieved, but their spiritual neces- 
sities will be felt and provided for. In every rich man, 
the poor will. then have a friend ; a friend in the best 
sense of the term ; one interested in him as a spiritual 
and an immortal being ; one whose aim, and privilege, 
and joy it will be to. make his poor brother, to the 
greatest extent practicable, a partaker of the blessings 
of the gospel. And under these happy influences, poverty 
would no longer be comparatively, an evil ; for the pooF 
would be brought into the kingdom of heaven, — to the 
piety and virtue of Christians. Is not Christianity, then, 
a religion which is adapted for the poor ; which is suited 
to bring to the poor an inestimable blessing. 

From the condition of the poor, as Christianity 
would make it, to that in which we see it amidst, and 
around us, let us for a moment turn our attention. Is 
it not, to a great extent, a condition of dreadful degra- 
dation and wretchedness ? It is dreadful, even when 
viewed in regard alone to its outward aspects. I speak 
not of the religious part of the poor. There are those, 
and I thank God that I know it, among whom we are 
permitted to see something of what our religion may do 
for the poor. But I can carry you from family to fam- 
ly, in which the first thought excited in the mind will 
be, is it possible that this should be a residence of my 
fellow creatures ? Here you may see half clad children, 
often thriving indeed in spite of the dirt with which 
they are encrusted ; but often, also, sickly and wither- 
ing from the same cause. And here are children, who 
should be in our schools, or our work shops, living in 
idleness, already perhaps intemperate, skilled in petty 



40 

gambling, obscene, profane, false, dishonest. And here 
are female children, already nearly lost to the sense of 
shame, and soon to be irrecoverably lost to virtue. 
Here you may see the remains of the last meal, which 
was obtained by beggary, lying for hours as it was left 
by each one after hunger had been satisfied, — because 
it was thought not worth while to remove what would 
soon be wanted again. The wind passes freely through 
the broken windows ; the unmade bed you might sus- 
pect to be a lair for some unclean animals ; and each 
article of the crippled and broken furniture, is in keep- 
ing with the condition of the bed. Here, too, you may 
see in the countenance, in the manners, in all that is 
visible, the effects and evidences of a disorder, a con- 
fusion, a debasement of the mind, a thousand times 
more dreadful than any mere outward evil. And all 
that you hear, also will but confirm the conviction, that 
this outward wretchedness, great as it is, is yet as 
nothing, when compared with the degradation of the 
soul. Sit down in this apartment, and trace back to the 
soul the causes of all that you see and hear. Look at 
the mind, and heart, as they are to be seen in these cir- 
cumstances. Look into the soul, and see there the 
causes and consequences of intemperance, of profane- 
ness, of unbridled lust and passion, and of the violation, 
under any excitement, of any and every personal virtue, 
and of every duty either to God or man. Here, indeed, 
you may perhaps say, that vice, or sin, loses much of 
its aggravation, its guilt, because it is so much the re- 
sult of ignorance, and of the circumstances under which 
it is committed. True, it may, and it does lose its 
guilt, in the sight of God, in proportion as these circum- 



41 

stances are inevitable. But are they inevitable ? Are 
they inevitable even with respect to ourselves ? Have 
we no accountableness with regard to these debased, 
and lost fellow creatures ? Is this condition of our fel- 
low beings a necessary consequence of any of the laws 
of God's providence ? Is it God's will that these poor 
creatures should live as they do, and be as they are ? 
And, have we nothing to do for their rescue from this 
wretchedness ? These are solemn inquiries in respect 
to those of us who are rich, who are enjoying the bless- 
ings of Christianity, and who profess to receive it as a 
revelation from God. Beside these, there are others 
less degraded, but who are still in almost utter igno- 
rance of our religion, and who have scarcely the faintest, 
conception of the good, which it is intended to bring to 
them. Need I describe to you their frequent sufferings, 
and the moral dangers to which these sufferings expose 
them ? There are still others, who are brought in some 
degree under the beneficial influences of Christianity. 
And their outward, as well as their inward condition, 
is proportionally improved by it. It often supplies even 
their temporal wants, by the wisdom and energy which 
it gives in the direction of their industry for the supply 
of these wants. And there are still other cases, in 
which its influence on the mind and heart, even under 
the continuance for years of want and suffering, has 
produced and maintained a purity, a consistency, a 
strength of principle, an excellence of character, and a 
true and solid happiness, certainly not surpassed by any 
thing which I have seen among those who have been 
favored with the greatest outward prosperity. But 
look at the poor around us, — in our very neighbor- 
6 



42 

hoods, and say, in proportion as they are ignorant of 
Christianity, and uninfluenced by it, what is their 
condition ? What is the condition of the poor in our 
country? Is it what Christianity would make it? 
Look at the poor of Europe ; of Christian Europe. 
How vast is the multitude of our fellow beings, who are 
there, by their very condition, shut out from the light 
and happiness which our Lord Jesus Christ intended 
for all his followers ! What have they for excitement, 
for restraint, for support, for comfort ? What, indeed, 
is the world to him, who is without religion, and who 
can call nothing in the world his own ? What is go- 
vernment, or w T hat are laws to him ? What to him are 
his fellow creatures who are above him ? What to him 
is right and wrong ? What to him is his soul ? Thus 
look at the poor, and then consider, what are the ob- 
jects of Christianity respecting them ? What would be 
the ameliorating influences of our religion among them, 
if its objects were accomplished in the rich; if the rich 
were what Christianity would make them to the poor ? 
Bear with me, for a moment longer, while I say a 
word for those, who are also near to you, and greatly 
indigent. Bear with me, while I remind you, that when 
you shall be enjoying all the comforts, and the abun- 
dance, of your homes, in the cold winter that is before 
us, there will be many who are not to be gathered into 
our churches, who will be brought to the extremity of 
suffering ; many who will hardly know where to look 
for food, and fuel, and clothing ; many who will be en- 
during the aggravated sufferings of poverty and sickness 
Need I state facts to convince you of the wretched con- 
dition of some of these poor families ? Is it doubted 



43 

whether there can be examples of very extreme want, 
in our opulent and charitable city ? Yes, my friends, 
even in our rich and benevolent city, where there is as 
highly moral a poor population as in any city of its 
numbers upon the earth, and where as much is done for 
the poor, as in any city on the earth, there are yet ex- 
amples of heart-rending distress, which will scarcely be 
known but to those who seek out the poor, that they 
may relieve and save them. On one of the days of the 
last winter, when the mercury in our thermometer was 
below zero, I went into a room, where I found a mother 
in bed with an infant but three days old. On one side 
of her, in the bed, was a child about a year and a half 
old ; and on the other side one about three years old. 
At the foot of the bed, but within it, was a child about 
four and a half years old. Here was not a spark of fire ; 
and all the food in the house was a single small crust, which 
the oldest of these children was eating. Again, in one 
of the coldest days of winter, when the wind drove the 
snow through every crack by which it might enter a 
dwelling, I found a poor creature, — a female, lying upon 
the floor of a room which no one would have thought at 
that season to have been tenantable. She was very ill, 
and was without food and fuel. And here she lived 
alone, with no resource but the kindness of those in a 
neighboring room, who were almost as destitute as 
herself. She was indeed a vicious woman. But she 
was our fellow being ; a child of our Father ; a par- 
taker of our own immortal nature. And had she no claim 
upon our interest, our sympathy ? I have but recently, 
also, visited another family, in which are a husband and 
wife, and four small children. The husband was dan- 



44 

gerously ill of a fever, and three of the children were 
very ill with the whooping cough. This family occupies 
two rooms, the largest of which measures seven feet by 
eleven ; and the smaller, the bed room, seven feet by 
nine. In this bed room all the family slept. Here were 
the sick husband and father, and three sick children, 
with a roof over them, through which the rain passed 
almost literally in streams upon the bed. And here, a 
day or two after a heavy rain, you might see the damp 
mould which had gathered on the walls around the sick 
man. The mother had not had a night of quiet sleep 
for a fortnight ; and the family was without fuel, without 
food, and without a farthing. But I will not continue 
the detail of such sufferings. You need them not, and 
I have not strength to give them. It is enough to say, 
that while charity may be abused, it may also be de- 
manded by all that concerns us as men, and as immortal 
beings. My friends, feel the goodness of God to your- 
selves, beware of your own sins, of your own immortal- 
ity, and your own accountableness, and you will be alive 
to the wants and sufferings of your fellow beings. Re- 
gard the poor as Jesus Christ regarded them, and then, 
while you are dispensing blessings, you will understand 
what Jesus Christ meant when he said, " It is more 
blessed to give than to receive." Let me be your 
almoner to those whom you cannot visit in their wants 
and sufferings. Give from Christian motives, and with 
christian wisdom, and you will accumulate possessions 
which will be retained, when all outward possessions 
will have passed away from you ; treasures of the soul, 
which will be as lasting as the soul. O how rich will 
he at last be, who shall be rich towards God ! How 



45 

ineffably blest will he then be, to whom Jesus will say. 
" I was hungry, and ye gave me meat ; thirsty, and ye 
gave me drink ; a stranger, and ye took me in ; naked, 
and ye clothed me ; sick, and in prison, and ye came 
unto me ; for, inasmuch as ye did it to the least of these 
my brethren, ye did it unto me !" 



PRAYER. 

Almighty Father, we render to Thee our humble 
and hearty thanks, for thy great and altogether unme- 
rited goodness to us. How great is that goodness, 
which has daily remembered us, when we have forgotten 
Thee ; and has crowned us with blessings, even when 
we have been evil and unthankful ! Help us more 
deeply to feel how unworthy we have been, and are, of 
the parental kindness with which Thou hast protected 
and prospered us ; by which Thou hast saved us from 
so many of the evils and sufferings, to which our race is 
exposed. May we be more constantly sensible, that our 
blessings are responsibilities ; that the poorest and most 
vicious of our fellow beings are, equally as ourselves, 
thy children ; and that Thou hast conferred upon us the 
talents and means of happiness, with which we are dis- 
tinguished from others, that we may be the instruments 
of thy benevolence to our suffering fellow creatures. 
Father, we desire to have more than we have ever had 
of the spirit of Christ ; a stronger sense of the value 
and excellence of our own nature, as thy children ; a 
spirit of greater humility, and self denial, and disinter- 
estedness. Help us, O Father, to overcome every pas- 



46 

sion within us, which wars against our duties either to 
Thee, or to man. We need the influence of thy Holy 
Spirit, to help us in our infirmities ; and we beseech 
Thee to grant it to us, that we may be enabled so to 
use all the good things with which Thou shalt entrust 
us here, and so to pass through all the trials and temp- 
tations of this mortal state, that we may finally be 
brought to immortal blessedness with Thee, and Jesus 
Christ our Lord, and all holy spirits in thy heavenly 
kingdom ; which we ask in the beloved name of him, 
who gave himself for us, through whom to Thee be glo- 
ry and thanksgiving for ever ! Amen. 



SERMON II. 



THE BEREAVED PAREJYT COMFORTED, 



Luke vii. 11 — 16. 

AND IT CAME TO PASS THE DAT AFTER, THAT HE WENT INTO A CITY 
CALLED NAIN,- AND MANY OF HIS DISCIPLES WENT WITH HIM, AND 
MUCH PEOPLE. NOW, WHEN HE CAME NIGH TO THE GATE OF THE 
CITY, BEHOLD, THERE WAS A DEAD MAN CARRIED OUT, THE ONLY 
SON OF HIS MOTHER, AND SHE WAS A WIDOW : AND MUCH PEOPLE 
OF THE CITY WAS WITH HER. AND WHEN THE LORD SAW HER, HE 
HAD COMPASSION ON HER, AND SAID UNTO HER, WEEP NOT. AND HE 
CAME, AND TOUCHED THE BIER : AND THEY THAT BEAR HIM STOOD 
STILL. AND HE SAID, YOUNG MAN, I SAY UNTO THEE, ARISE. AND HE 
THAT WAS DEAD SAT UP, AND BEGAN TO SPEAK. AND HE DELIVERED 
HIM TO HIS MOTHER. AND THERE CAME A FEAR ON ALL ; AND THEY 
GLORIFIED GOD, SAYING THAT A GREAT PROPHET IS RISEN UP AMONG 
US, AND THAT GOD HATH VISITED HIS PEOPLE. 



There is no trait in the character of our blessed Lord 
more calculated to call forth our admiration, and awa- 
ken our gratitude, than the sympathy which he uni- 
formly manifested for human sorrows. When we read 
of a Being possessed of such rare gifts and endowments, 
— the holiest, the most exalted Messenger of God — 
whose birth was announced by angels, and whose course 
through life was accompanied by a series of the most 



48 

wonderful manifestations of divine power, condescend- 
ing to human frailty, and mingling his tears with the 
tears of the unhappy ; we feel that he is indeed that 
Saviour whom our wants and necessities require, and 
on whom the heart reposes in the midst of its weak- 
nesses and troubles. Into the holy and ever-blessed 
name of him who said, " Suffer little children, and for- 
bid them not, to come unto me, for of such is the king- 
dom of heaven," we baptize our infant race. In the 
faith of him who is " the resurrection and the life," we 
commit the bodies of our friends to the dust, believing 
that they shall yet live. And in humble reliance on his 
truth, "who hath abolished death, and hath brought 
life and immortality to light through the gospel," we 
ourselves yet hope to breathe forth our latest sigh. We 
rejoice, therefore, that the Author of our religion, though 
free from every mortal stain, was yet no stranger 
to those trials and sufferings which are here our por- 
tion — " that we have not an High Priest who cannot be 
touched with the feeling of our infirmities ; but was in 
all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin : that 
we may come boldly unto the the throne of grace, to 
obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need." 

The words of our text record a very remarkable in- 
stance of the compassion of Jesus. These I propose to 
illustrate ; and then to endeavor to draw such lessons 
from the affecting narrative, as may be consolatory to 
our hearts. 

It is impossible to contemplate that event which re- 
moves a human being from the pursuits and enjoyments 
of life, to the silence and darkness of the grave, with- 
out deep and serious reflection. Our self-esteem, inde- 



49 

pendently of any higher motive, a^yakens the thought, 
that at no very distant time, we too shall thus be carried 
to our last home, " and the place that knoweth us now, 
shall know us no more." And we feel this truth im- 
pressed upon us, that as no man liveth to himself, so al- 
so when he comes to lay down his weary anxious be- 
ing, his departure is inseparably linked and associated 
with that of others of his fellow-mortals, who are all 
hastening to the same final resting place. 

A funeral must, therefore, under any circumstances, 
awaken serious thoughts in the bosom of every one gift- 
ed with reflection, and capable of feeling. Yet, when 
is the conclusion of a long life — when the eye has be- 
come dim, and the ear deaf ; and the powers of the bo- 
dy and the faculties of the mind have alike been en- 
feebled ; and the enjoyments of the world have passed 
away — we regard that as a necessary' and even a kind 
dispensation, which removes man from a scene where 
he can no longer be useful, or happy. He thus gradu- 
ally sinks into his rest ; and if he have fulfilled the du- 
ties of life, departs from this mingled state of being, 
full of years and of honors, and his memory is blessed. 
Who would wish that a dear friend should prolong his 
continuance on this earth, when " the grasshopper has 
become a burden, and desire has failed," when the cup 
of enjoyment has been exhausted, and the worn-out 
frame demands that repose which is preparatory to a 
renovated, a glorious, and an undying existence ? 

But different is the feeling when we accompany to 
the grave the mortal remains of those who, in the spring 
time of their years, have been called away from the in- 
nocent pleasures of life, and from the fond anticipations 
7 



50 

of happiness, and from the prospects of future useful- 
ness. And though we may hope and believe, that the 
exchange has been to them a blessed one — that they 
have been freed from many an anxious hour, saved from 
many a painful trial — yet do we mourn, not for them, 
but for those who have survived them— for the breach 
which their departure has made in the circle of domes- 
tic peace — for the parents who had rejoiced in their 
opening virtues — who had found, in their society, the 
purest happiness — who had looked forward, with an- 
ticipations of delight, to distant times ; but all whose 
enjoyments, arising from this source, all whose bright 
hopes that gilded futurity, are thus buried in an untime- 
ly grave. Such was the scene that presented itself in 
the funeral of the youth, recorded by the Evangelist ; 
and which appears to have called forth the sympathy of 
the beholders — for, we are informed, that the mourner 
was accompanied by much people of the city. 

But there was an additional circumstance in this 
case, that heightened the natural feeling of commisera- 
tion. The young man who was dead, had been the 
only son of his mother. 

The affection which parents bear to their children is 
one of the most ardent, and most enduring, of which 
our natures are susceptible. The emotion that arises 
within the bosom of a good man when first blessed with 
the endearing name of father, must be recalled with 
satisfaction, as one of the most delightful which he has 
ever experienced, and which language is too feeble to 
express. With what tender anxiety does he watch 
over the helpless period of infancy, and fondly dream of 
unnumbered pleasures that are in store for him, ere yet 



51 

the eye can look affection, or the tongue can lisp its 
unformed accents ! With what pleasure does he mark 
its growth ; and the powers of the mind, and the vir- 
tues of the heart, as they gradually unfold themselves ! 
And, happily unconscious of future evil, looks forward 
to an endless succession of delight — believes, and trusts, 
that he will one day be more than repaid for all his 
anxious cares — that when his head shall be whitened 
by the snows of time, the piety of his children will sup- 
port him under the infirmities of age — smooth his pil- 
low in a dying hour — and shed holy tears of affection 
on his grave. 

But strong and ardent as is a father's attachment to 
his infant race, it is believed to be feeble when com- 
pared with a mother's love. There are a thousand 
nameless circumstances which attach her, by bonds that 
can never be finally severed, to the child which she has 
borne — that sweet innocent which has lain in her bo- 
som — has drawn its support from that fountain which 
nature has enabled her to supply — that has been whol- 
ly dependent upon her in all its wants, and all its en- 
joyments — that has returned her endearments, and re- 
warded her ceaseless cares, with its smiles. The hal- 
lowed ties which thus entwine themselves around a 
mother's heart, can be relaxed, only when that heart 
shall have ceased to throb. "It is a love that many 
waters cannot quench ; nor the floods drown : which is 
strong as death." 

It was a mother whom Jesus met at the gate of 
the city, accompanying the remains of her child, her 
only son, to their place of rest. There was no other 
surviving, whose wants and claims might awaken her 



52 

to a sense of the duties of life ; and in whose affection 
she might hope to find an alleviation of her grief. Who 
can attempt to measure her sorrows — who can express 
the agony of her spirit, as she thus found herself be- 
reaved of one in whom all her affections centered, and 
to whom she might naturally have looked for comfort 
and support in the evening of her days? 

She was also a widow. She had mourned for the 
loss of the husband of her youth — she had suffered the 
rending of the holiest ties — and the last link of that 
chain of affection which bound her to the world, was 
now broken. With feeble steps she was following to 
the grave him, to whom she had looked as her sole 
earthly stay, and consolation : and this childless, widow- 
ed mourner found herself bereaved of all that could 
render life desirable, and thrown unprotected on a wide, 
unpitying world. 

It was in this hour of deep and overwhelming dis- 
tress, when hope itself was dead, that Jesus, the Mes- 
senger of Heaven — " he who bore our griefs and carried 
our sorrows," drew nigh ; and when he saw her, he had 
compassion on her. He, to whom power had been 
given by the Author of nature, then reanimated the 
lifeless body, and restored to the poor widow, him whose 
untimely fate she had lamented, in the bitterness of 
anguish ; and whom she was about to consign to the 
last home appointed for man. Oh ! what language can 
express the delight which must have thrilled through 
all her frame — the gratitude with which she must have 
blessed that sainted Being who pitied her desolate con- 
dition — when he who had been dead, awoke from his 
deep slumber — when the eye, over which the shades of 



53 

mortality had been overcast, once more became bright 
with intelligence — when the voice, whose sounds had 
been hushed in death, once more gladdened a parent's 
ear ; and when the fond mother pressed to her throb- 
bing heart the faded but reviving form, of her beloved 
child, her son, her only son ? 

It remains for us to consider in what respects this 
instance of the compassion of Jesus may be rendered 
profitable or consolatory to us. 

Examples ■ are daily occurring, of the youthful and 
vigorous, as well as of the aged and infirm, falling be- 
neath the power of death. In this, as in other respects, 
the ways of divine providence are often, to our view, 
dark and mysterious. Yet we may be * led to believe, 
that in this manner, parents are sometimes mercifully 
chastened, for allowing their thoughts to be too much 
engrossed even by these dear objects of their affection. 
And gradually to wean them from a world which they 
must shortly leave ; and to awaken them to duties 
which they may have neglected or forgotten ; the hand 
of God has interposed ; and to save, and to bless the 
parents, has removed the child. Perhaps the afflictive 
dispensation may have been the means of saving the 
child from many a trial, and many a suffering — that 
in this manner, an innocent and happy spirit has been 
called away, ere it had known of the sins, or felt the 
sorrows of this world. These, and various other pur- 
poses unknown to us, may be served by the divine pro- 
cedure, which thus sees fit unexpectedly to blast the 
hopes of many a fond and anxious parent. 

Yet is the trial most severe ; and demands all the aid 
which reason and religion can supply, to support man 



54 

beneath its pressure. They alone who have been call- 
ed on, in the dread visitations of a mysterious provi- 
dence, to watch over the dying bed of a much loved 
child, can enter into, or feel the bitterness of such a 
sorrow. Day, succeeding day, rinds the anxious parents 
treading with noiseless step, but agitated feelings, the 
chamber of sickness ; or bending over the couch of the 
dear sufferer, in speechless anxiety ; eager from a look, 
or a sound, to catch the least hope ; whilst life and 
death seem to hang on a balance that the slightest breath 
could move. Their hearts, for a moment uplifted by a 
temporary alleviation of pain, cherishes the thought 
that the fatal crisis is past : but are, ere long, destined 
again to be agonized, by marking the return of unmiti- 
gated disease. Sincere and fervent are their prayers to 
a throne of grace, that a merciful Being may yet spare 
to them their child — " that if it be possible this cup of 
affliction may pass from them." But alas ! it is other- 
wise determined, and the last hour approaches. The 
pangs of an incurable disease in some measure reconcile 
them to the issue ; and the selfish feeling which prompts 
them to wish that life may be prolonged, is at last over- 
come by a desire that the poor sufferer may be finally 
released. The struggle is over — and in all the stupor 
of grief, mingled with thankfulness that mortal suffer- 
ings are ended, they behold the dear object of their 
warmest love now composed, in the dread calm, and 
serenity of death. Then follow the sad rites conse- 
quent on this mournful event ; and the excitement 
which is thus caused, and the endeavor to summon up 
that composure which reason and religion demand, give 
a temporary energy, which could not have been antici- 



55 

pated. i or as a wound is never so painful, when re- 
cently inflicted, as at a later time, so the feelings have 
been so overpowered, and subdued, that the bewilder- 
ed mind is still in a dream : and all the sad events that 
have so lately occurred, pass before it in shadowy in- 
distinctness. And it is only when he hears the hollow 
sound of the earth, as it falls upon the coffin ; and when 
he takes the last lingering look ; and when the grave 
has been finally closed over the child whom he loved, 
that the bereaved father is awakened to a sense of his 
desolation. 

And when these sad services are over, and he returns 
to what is now a home of sorrow, a thousand circum- 
stances remind him of the loss he has suffered. He 
meets the partner of his life, the sharer of his affliction, 
the mother of his buried child ; whilst sigh responds to 
sigh, and their tears are mingled in the communion of 
grief. Forgetting for a moment all that has passed, he 
unconsciously looks around him for one, who, with a 
joyous heart, Used to welcome his coming — but alas ! 
no light footstep is heard. One place is now seen un- 
occupied at the social table ; and the hearth, late so 
cheerful, now shews one melancholy blank. He asks 
himself, is it indeed true that he shall behold his child 
no more upon this earth — no more hear that voice 
which was wont to gladden him — no more see that 
happy countenance, which used to make him forget all 
the cares and troubles of the world ? Again, a tempo- 
rary oblivion succeeds. He starts, as the moaning of 
the wind recals the low complaining of his poor suffer- 
er : and he listens, almost expecting to hear those sounds, 
that are now hushed for ever in the stillness of the 



56 

grave. Whilst other eyes are closed in sleep, the be- 
reaved parents wake only to sorrow — endeavoring to 
conceal from each other the intensity of grief; or dwel- 
ling, with mournful satisfaction, on the virtues of the 
departed, and the sad loss which they have mutually 
sustained. 

Let me conduct such mourners, and many such there 
are, to that benevolent Being who came into the world 
to strengthen the feeble, and to comfort the afflicted. 
His bodily presence is indeed withdrawn, and this earth 
shall no more be blessed with his sainted steps. But 
his spirit breathes around us in that religion which he 
has left for our support, and guidance ; and his promises, 
on which we rely with unhesitating faith, come with 
living power, to cheer the disconsolate bosom. 

To virtuous parents, who grieve for the loss of a 
good and beloved child, Jesus, the Son of God, still 
says, in the language of comfort, " Weep not." It is 
not his command that, with stoical pride, we should 
brush away the tear as it gathers in the eye, when we 
bend in sorrow over an early, an untimely grave. For 
he well knew that this is the natural tribute which affec- 
tion pays, when those whom we loved have been thus 
called away : and he himself wept at the grave of Laz- 
arus his friend. But Jesus commands such not to yield 
to despondency — " not to sorrow like those who have 
no hope." If the child for whom they lament, was 
taken from them at a very early period, why should 
they mourn that it has so soon been called away from 
mortal trial ; and unsullied by the defilements of life, 
a stranger to its sorrows, been fitted for its kindred 
skies ? Or if the time of infancy had been passed, and 



57 

youth had succeeded, with promise of a rich harvest of 
goodness, in mature years — if a being endowed with 
the kindliest affections ; delighting to do good ; rejoic- 
ing in the welfare of others ; loving and beloved ; inno- 
cent and happy, has been removed, why should they, 
with selfish feeling, repine, when they must know, that 
the child of their affections has been saved from many 
a troubled hour — released from mortal suffering — and 
that heaven, in mercy, and in holy recompense of vir- 
tue, has granted an early grave ? 

Besides, the separation of virtuous hearts caused by 
the power of death, is of short continuance. " I am," 
said Jesus, " the resurrection and the life : he that be- 
lievethinme, though he w r ere dead, yet shall he live; and 
whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die." 
The voice of him who, in the days of his flesh, said un- 
to the widowed mother, " Weep not," shall yet break 
in on the deep slumbers of the grave, recalling the la- 
mented dead to life. The scriptures, too, seem to war- 
rant the belief, to which the heart fondly clings, that 
we shall recognize each other in that purer, happier 
world. When Jesus was comforting his disciples in the 
prospect of his death, which he had foretold, he said, 
" Let not your heart be troubled : ye believe in God, 
believe also in me. In my Father's house are many 
mansions : if it were not so, I would have told you. I 
go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare 
a place for you, I will come again and receive you un- 
to myself; that where I am, there ye may be also." 
Thus evidently implying the renewal of that friendly 
intercourse, which was about to suffer an interruption 
by his approaching death. The same idea is conveyed 
8 



58 

by the figurative language which he addressed to his 
disciples, at the solemn and interesting time, when he 
appointed the holy sacrament of Supper, as a perpetual 
memorial of his love. " I say unto you, I will not 
drink henceforth of this fruit of the vine, until that day 
when 1 drink, it new with you in my Father's kingdom." 
The words of the Apostle Paul, which he addressed 
unto the church of the Thessalonians, as a ground of 
consolation upon the death of their friends, appear to 
sanction the same comfortable doctrine. " I would 
not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them 
which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others 
which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died, 
and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus," 
will God bring with him." 

It undoubtedly is a great source of consolation under 
the deep affliction caused by death, to believe that the 
separation is not final. When we commit the remains 
of the good and beloved, unto the bosom of the earth, 
our sorrows must be alleviated, by cherishing the well- 
grounded hope of a joyful resurrection — of a reunion 
with those whom we loved, and honored here, in the 
mansions of immortality. 

Weep not, then, Christian parents, with unvailing 
and hopeless grief, over the tomb of a duteous and be- 
loved child. A precious bud has indeed been plucked 
from the tree of mortal life; but it will yet open, and 
expand, and bloom with renewed and unfading beauty, 
in a holier, happier clime. He who restored her son to 
the poor widowed mother, has promised that your child 
too shall yet live. And the day is hastening, nor can it 
be iar distant, when you shall meet again, in a more 



59 

blissful hour, in a world beyond the grave. Then the 
affections, purified from mortal stains, and unaffected 
by mortal sorrows, shall be called forth into the most 
delightful exercise ; and a joyful intercourse be renewed, 
holy as Heaven, and abiding as eternity. 

In conclusion. The existence of unavoidable pain 
and sorrow in the creation of God, who is admitted to 
be good, and who, when he called us from the dust, 
could have no end but our happiness in view, is a 
difficulty not easily solved. Fully and satisfactorily to 
explain all the reasons for the divine procedure in these 
respects, is a task to which the human powers, in this 
state of very limited knowledge, seem to be altogether 
inadequate. And for a perfect understanding of these 
things, and a complete unravelling of every perplexity, 
we must be content to await that eventful time in our 
existence, when our minds shall be farther enlightened; 
our faculties enlarged ; our moral perceptions uninflu- 
enced by earth and earthly objects; " and mortality be 
swallowed up of life." 

Yet when we are taught by scripture, as well as by 
the experience of our own hearts, that affliction, under 
some form or other, is available to our progress in holi- 
ness and virtue ; and that, like our divine Master, we 
must " be made perfect through suffering"— then the 
difficulty is, in a great measure, overcome ; and human 
life, with all the misery and wretchedness with which 
it abounds, appears to be a merciful part in the dispen- 
sation of God — the path by which he conducts his intel- 
ligent creatures to the perfection of their nature — to a 
glorious and never ending existence. 

When we thus look forward to the consummation of 



60 

all things, when the trials and sufferings of man shall 
have accomplished their gracious ends ; and the poor 
children of earth, relieved from trouble and sorrow — 
redeemed from error and sin, shall be admitted into the 
presence of a God of love, there to enjoy a blessedness 
that shall only be commencing its ceaseless rounds, 
when millions of ages shall have rolled away ; then the 
little and passing evils of this world fade and disappear, 
our minds are overpowered in contemplating the un- 
utterable goodness of that Being who raised us from the 
dust, to confer upon us the gift of immortality— and we 
commit ourselves, with humble resignation and filial 
confidence to his gracious hand ; which, we doubt not, 
will support us through the varied journey of life, and 
finally lead us to a happy and everlasting home. Amen. 



PRAYER. 

Almighty God, the Author of our being, and the 
exhaustless fountain of goodness I It has pleased Thee 
to raise us from the earth — to place us here, during a 
few days, for our trial and improvement — and, in thy 
good time, to call us to return to the dust from whence 
we were taken. 

It has pleased Thee not to confine the views or hopes 
of the pious and the good, to this world, which must 
soon pass away ; but to animate them in virtue, and to 
comfort them in sorrow, with the prospect of another 
and a happier life. 

It has pleased Thee, for these gracious ends, to send 



61 

into our world, Jesus Christ, the Son of thy love : who 
having instructed mankind in these glorious truths, and 
fulfilled all the gracious purposes of his heavenly mis- 
sion, was raised by thy Almighty power from the state 
of the dead, " being the first fruits of them that slept," 
as the sure pledge and earnest of our immortality. 

It has pleased Thee, during this our earthly abode, 
to mingle many pains and sorrows with our portion — 
thus to improve us in holiness and virtue, to wean our 
affections from a world which we must shortly leave, 
and to fit and prepare our imperfect natures for the bless- 
edness of futurity. And although we cannot compre- 
hend the reasons of all thy dealings with us ; and that 
the sacrifices which we are often called on to make, are 
very painful to our hearts ; yet, in the midst of our 
tears, our confidence in Thee remains unshaken ; and 
we are still fully persuaded, that every thing is well, 
and wisely ordered — that " thou afflictest not willingly, 
nor grievest the children of men." 

Father ! Chasten us in mercy — lay not thy hand 
too heavily upon us — pity our weakness — remember we 
are but dust — " Spare us that we may recover strength, 
ere we go hence, and be no more." 

May it please Thee to comfort and bless, in an es- 
pecial manner, parents who have suffered the loss of 
good and beloved children, and weep over their early 
and untimely graves. Teach them to reflect, that they, 
for whom they mourn, have made a blessed exchange ; 
and having been delivered from the cares and troubles 
of this vain life, now rest with Thee. And as each link 
is severed from that chain which binds us to this world, 
as each earthly stay glides from beneath our hands, 



62 

may we endeavor to prepare for our departure, and 
wait, with patience and resignation, "all the days of 
our appointed time, till our change come" — hoping 
again to meet with those we loved upon this earth, and 
whose dear image is ever cherished within our hearts, 
in that more blissful state, " where God shall wipe 
away all tears from our eyes ; and there shall be no more 
death, neither sorrow nor crying." 

" The Lord bless, and pity us. The Lord cause the 
liiiht of his countenance to shine upon us, and grant us 
his peace, now and evermore." Amen. 



SERMON III. 



THE HUMILITY OF CHRIST. 



John xiiu 12 — 15. 

" SO AFTER HE HAD WASHED THEIR FEET, AND HAD TAKEN HIS GAR- 
MENTS, AND WAS SET DOWN AGAIN, HE SAID UNTO THEM, KNOW YE 
WHAT I HAVE DONE TO YOU ?— YE CALL ME MASTER AND LORD: AND 
YE SAY WELL; FOR SO I AM. IF I THEN, YOUR LORD AND MASTER, 
HAVE WASHED YOUR FEET; YE ALSO OUGHT TO WASH ONE ANOTH- 
ER'S FEET.— FOR I HAVE GIVEN YOU AN EXAMPLE, THAT YE SHOULD 
DO AS I HAVE DONE TO YOU." 



We have here a beautiful example of our Lord's em- 
blematic mode of instruction. By washing the feet of 
his disciples, he doubtless intended to teach them the 
virtue of humility. How needful was such an admoni- 
tion, we learn from the various accounts given by the 
Evangelists of the circumstances attending the transac- 
tion, recorded in the text. The last Supper was over: 
Jesus had instituted an affecting memorial of himself, 
and had just disclosed the melancholy intelligence, that 
ere long he should be betrayed by one of his own fol- 
lowers. The whole scene was solemn and impressive ; 
and calculated, it might have been supposed, to check 
the slightest feelings of ambition and pride. But the 



64 

fact proved otherwise. We are informed by Luke, in 
the corresponding section of his gospel, that " there was 
also a strife among them, which of them should be ac- 
counted the greatest:" and it was to condemn this 
worldly temper — to give them in his own person a strik- 
ing lesson of the profoundest humility — that the Son 
of God, and the Saviour of mankind stooped to. the 
lowest, and, apparently, the most degrading, office of 
menial duty. 

In this scene of our Saviour's history, there is an al- 
most dramatic beauty and impressiveness. To behold 
a being, so highly favored of God, so pre-eminently en- 
dowed with wisdom and holiness and power, whose 
public life had been one continued series of beneficent 
miracles and eloquent discourses — whose benignant 
countenance and venerable demeanor bespoke his god- 
like character and exalted mission — to behold this illus- 
trious personage, in the dignified simplicity of conscious 
greatness, divesting himself of every outward badge of 
superiority and bending to the lowliest act of social kind- 
ness, even to the feet of those, whom he had reclaim- 
ed, instructed and saved — while the simple men, whose 
pride he thus gently corrected, felt troubled by his 
courtesy and would fain have resisted such unheard of 
condescension ; — what a scene of sublime humility is 
here ! What a sermon does it preach to the meanness 
and the littleness of this world's pride and haughtiness ! 
How does it wither into unspeakable nothingness all 
those tricks of pomp and state, by w 7 hich the mighty 
and opulent of the earth affect the semblance of great- 
ness — and would gladly exclude from their presence and 
communion those humbler children of humanity, whose 



65 

feet the Redeemer of our race thought it not beneath 
him to wash ! 

The striking originality of Christ's character is one 
of the most conclusive internal proofs of the divinity of 
his mission. When he appeared, humility, as he taught 
and exemplified it, was something new in moral charac- 
ter. The Greeks and Romans were enamored of the 
daring and heroic in human action : humility, in their 
estimation, was a mean and servile quality. But sur- 
vey the character of Jesus, and say — whether it does 
not at once confute this mistaken idea ; whether, in 
fact, his virtue ever appears more truly magnanimous 
and sublime, than in the very act of washing his disci- 
ples' feet. His humility is remarkable both for its 
simplicity and its dignity ; and when we compare it 
with the other graces of his character — his piety, his 
self-command, his purity, gentleness and philanthropy 
— we behold such a beautiful and harmonious assem- 
blage of virtues, that we feel persuaded, there must 
have been something more than human in the influence 
which inspired and cherished them, and exclaim, almost 
involuntarily, with the centurion at the cross, " Truly 
this was a Son of God." 

Let us, then, consider the sources, from which this 
excellence of our Lord's character arose, and the modes 
in which it chiefly showed itself. 

I. The humility of Jesus grew naturally out of the 
deep devotional spirit, which imbued his whole life. 
We have the proofs of his piety in every page of the 
gospel : it is seen in the prevailing tone of his discourses ; 
it is implied in the habitual tenor of his conduct. It is 
the very element, in which his existence moved, — the 
9 



66 

sacred influence, under which he perpetually spoke and 
acted. Does he perform a miracle — heal the sick, give 
sight to the blind or raise the dead ? To God he de- 
voutly ascribes the wonderful power, of which he feels 
himself only the appointed instrument ; to God, the 
Author of all good, he raises the adoring thoughts of his 
awe-struck followers. He tastes not the commonest 
blessings, and partakes not of the simplest meal, without 
first offering his solemn tribute of thanksgiving to the 
Universal Father. 

Incessantly followed by devoted multitudes, who 
hung with rapture on his lips, and whom a single word 
— a mere look — would have made immediately subser- 
vient to his will, he never forgets, for a moment, the 
Almighty Being, who had sent him, and whose purposes 
it was his high mission to fulfil : in his most unguarded 
actions and expressions, we never discern the slightest 
traces of ambition or worldly mindedness. On con- 
cluding the labors of the day — or perhaps before re- 
suming them again, we find him escaping into the lone- 
liness of the desert, to hold sweet intercourse with his 
Heavenly Father ; fervently renewing his petitions for 
divine assistance and direction ; quickening the devout 
consciousness of dependence and protection ; strength- 
ening his purposes of unreserved obedience ; and praying, 
in the lowliness of his heart, with deep submission to 
the will of God, that he might faithfully exercise those 
extraordinary gifts with which he felt himself entrusted. 

That perfection of devotion, which the best men 
find it so difficult to maintain in the present world, 
our Saviour fully realized : and it was from this 
habitual communion with God — this devotedness of 



67 

heart and life to God's service — that the beautiful and 
unaffected humility of his character arose. He regarded 
nothing which he possessed, as his own ; every thing 
as God's. If we examine the nature of that contemp- 
tible pride, which is so prevalent in the world, we shall 
find it consist in over-estimating ourselves, above the 
rest of mankind, for the possession of things to which 
we have no original title whatever ; which are no more 
our's, in an enlarged sense, than the breath and light of 
heaven ; which, in fact we hold only under the 
tenure of God's sovereign will and pleasure. Strange 
as it. may seem, it is upon those very possessions 
which are least connected with individual worth, and, 
in their own nature, are most casual, transitory, and 
precarious, that the children of this world are ever most 
forward to pride themselves. The pride of birth, and 
the pride of wealth, of all human claims to distinction 
the most absurd and despicable, are nevertheless of all 
the most notoriously common. Men, who have not one 
intrinsic claim to respect — because their ancestors were 
braver and better than themselves, or the lottery of for- 
tune has dealt them ample possessions, are daily seen to 
affect airs of superiority, and to insult with contemptu- 
ous insolence the honest feelings of their less distin- 
guished fellow creatures. Picture to yourselves the 
conduct of these weak and infatuated men; mark their 
overbearing demeanor, their haughty assumption, their 
patronizing smiles of condescension : and then turn to 
the simple narrative of John — behold the Saviour of the 
world — to whom the spirit was given without measure, 
who spake as never man spake, who was God's chosen 
messenger and well beloved Son-— girded like a hired 



68 

servant, and washing the feet of the lowly fishermen of 
Galilee ! 

It must not however, be supposed, that the posses- 
sion of any quality, moral or intellectual, can justify 
pride. No knowledge or ability, no consciousness of 
virtue or hope of God's final acceptance can supersede 
the necessity for the profoundest humility. Never was 
there a being, more richly endowed with knowledge, 
wisdom and virtue, than our Lord ; he was the fault- 
less Exemplar of all human excellence : and yet, in 
every action of his life, in every word which escaped 
his lips, he failed not to acknowledge the heavenly 
Fountain from which these gifts and graces flowed. 
He regarded himself an instrument in God's hand. His 
measure of grace was what God had bestowed. He 
rejoiced in it. He was thankful for it. He felt his du- 
ties proportioned to it : but the calm sense of satisfac- 
tion, which the consciousness of it inspired, was too deep 
and too solemn — too closely blended with the thought 
of God, to mingle with the feelings of pride. 

II. Another source of our Lord's humility may be 
discovered in his profound and habitual sense of the 
end, for which he came into the world, and of the duties 
which he had been commissioned to fulfil. His mind 
was intently fixed on this end and on these duties. He 
never thought of himself as distinct from them. 

Nothing would prove a more effectual cure for pride, 
than this practice of constantly referring our conduct to 
some definite standard of duty, of comparing what we 
are with what we ought to be. The end of existence and 
the duties of life are distinctly pointed out to us by our 
religion. Though not, like our Saviour, expressly com- 



69 

missioned by God, we have each, in our humble sphere, 
a work to perform, and a mission to fulfil. To keep 
this work and mission perpetually in view, and to make 
them the motive of our actions and the end of our la- 
bors, would be attended with a double advantage. By 
directing the attention to the rewards of virtue in a 
future state, and associating the discharge of our duties 
with a deep sense of the responsibility to God, it would 
raise the thoughts above those petty distinctions and 
casual advantages of birth and fortune, which are the 
never-failing ministers of pride, and would impart a 
noble seriousness — a rational elevation to the habitual 
feelings of the mind. And secondly, by exhibiting the 
duties of life in their real magnitude and importance, 
and showing what great, what constant exertions are 
needed to fulfil them well, it would render us pain- 
fully aware of our deficiences ; it would urge us forward 
with such earnestness and alacrity in the road of duty, 
it would make us so anxious to redeem lost time and to 
improve present opportunities, that we should find no 
leisure to pause on our journey, and measure our pro- 
gress with that of the more dilatory travellers, who are 
still behind. In the glowing language of Paul, " for- 
getting those things which are behind, and reaching for- 
ward to those things which are before, we should strain 
every nerve to press towards the mark for the prize of 
our high calling in Christ Jesus." 

This earnest devotion to duty, this sense of its im- 
portance, this fear of coming short in what it required, 
and of betraying the sacred trust committed to him — 
formed a striking feature in our Saviour's character, and 
was inseparable from the feeling and expression of a 



70 

profound humility. On no occasion is this quality more 
affectingly displayed then in the garden of Gethsemane, 
when his last trial was fast approaching. Who can read 
without emotion this touching record of diffidence and 
humility in a being of such spotless purity and unshaken 
integrity ? In such situations our Lord's character dis- 
covers its unrivalled beauty and perfection. If we 
thoroughly appreciate its excellence — if we call to mind 
his prayers and watchings — his diffidence of himself — 
his reliance on God — we shall feel our own pride and 
self-sufficiency rebuked — and, however esteemed or flat- 
tered by the world, shall find no ground in what we now 
are, and in what we have already done— either for ex- 
ultation in ourselves or for contempt of others, 

III. The humility of Christ is further shown in his 
perfect willingness to undertake the meanest offices and 
most toilsome duties, if they afforded him an opportunity 
of doing good. In this sense, his humility was the off- 
spring of his benevolence. He had nothing of worldly 
•—nothing of spiritual, pride. He never shunned a fel- 
low creature because he was poor — of humble birth, or 
ignoble calling. His humane and generous spirit dis- 
dained the pharisaic hypocrisy, which repels the hapless 
victims of guilt with " Come not near, for I am holier 
than thou." No ! wherever was an opportunity of be- 
nevolent exertion, of friendly counsel or of healing in- 
fluence, there was Jesus found — in the haunts of vice, 
in the abodes of misery — among the poor, despised, out- 
cast and abandoned of the sons of men. 

In misery's darkest cavern known, 

His heavenly aid was ever nigh, 
Where hopeless anguish poured its groan, 

And lonely want retired to die. 



71 

He was moved with compassion, when he looked on the 
multitudes and remembered their ignorance, wretched- 
ness and sin. Holy, harmless and undefiled himself, he 
mingled freely with publicans and sinners — earnestly 
but gently rebuking their sins — and With sweet affec- 
tionate persuasiveness, winning them back to the favor 
of a forsaken God, and the peaceful paths of righteous- 
ness. If there were any, against whom his mild bene- 
volent spirit was ever roused with a burst of momentary 
indignation, it was not against those, whom the world 
stigmatizes as vile and profligate, and whose vices sprang 
from involuntary ignorance and neglected education — 
who wandered in darkness, not because they delighted 
in it, but because the light had never dawned on them 
from heaven — but it was against the worldly-minded 
and the proud, against the hypocritical and self-righteous 
Pharisees. Who can forget those sarcastic and heart- 
searching words ? — " They that be whole need not a 
physician, but they that be sick. But go ye and learn 
what that meaneth, I will have mercy and not sacrifice : 
for I am not come to call the righteous but sinners to 
repentance." 

The conventional distinctions of society had no ex- 
istence in the comprehensive philanthropy of Jesus. He 
surveyed all mankind under one grand and compre- 
hensive relation, as the children of God and heirs of 
immortality. His benevolent sympathies were limited 
by no diversities of rank, condition, sect or nation. He 
was the universal friend of man. He lived and died 
for the happiness of the human race. He thought noth- 
ing beneath him, which conduced to this end. In the 
meanest garb, and amidst the most revolting accompa- 



72 

niments of degradation and wretchedness, the form and 
countenance of a fellow creature spoke with resistless 
appeal to his compassion and sympathy. He saw a 
brother in every human being ; to every human being, 
however sunk, forlorn and guilty, he rejoiced to com- 
municate his stores of instruction and consolation. 

IV. Once more, the humility of Jesus was founded 
on self-knowledge and compatible with self-respect. 
Hence it was sincere, dignified and unostentatious. His 
habitual piety prompted the devout acknowledgment 
of the source, whence all his powers and endowments 
were derived : and this reference, while it inspired a 
genuine humility and an earnest desire to improve his 
gifts aright, taught him, at the same time, to value 
them for their origin, and to rejoice in their possession 
as a just occasion of satisfaction and thankfulness. His 
was not the unnatural and exaggerated humility, which 
consists in professions of utter worthlessness and cor- 
ruption ; but that tempered and dignified submission 
to the will of an Almighty Father, which is happy in 
the consciousness of being an instrument of his goodness, 
and in the confiding resignation of all events to his 
supreme disposal. Jesus acknowledged the magnitude 
and grandeur of the duties devolved on him ; and he 
applied to God for assistance in discharging them. But 
that same knowledge of his heart and circumstances, 
which inspired a rational diffidence and bade him look to 
heaven for aid — also made him sensible of the purity 
and rectitude of his motives, and saved him from un- 
worthy self-distrust. He was diffident, because he knew 
what God had confided to him ; but he found nothing 
in his heart inconsistent with self-respect, and his humil- 



73 

ity was a constant source of peace and cheerfulness. 
It sprang from his devotedness to God and his benevo- 
lence to man ; it was strengthened by his high sense of 
duty, and his earnest desire of public usefulness : it re- 
quired no idle penances — it dictated no gratuitous mor- 
tifications — it expressed itself in no extravagant profes- 
sions : — to do good, to be actively and universally bene- 
volent — was the measure of his sacrifices and the motive 
of his toils. 

Throughout the whole of our Lord's public teachings 
and conduct, humility is inculcated both by example 
and precept as a virtue peculiarly human. Christ's 
character is the perfection of humanity ; his whole life, 
with his patient death and triumphant resurrection, is 
set forth as a bright example of human duty and human 
destiny. In that beautiful assemblage of moral graces, 
in that course of meek submission, of heroic firmness 
and unwearied philanthropy, we find no one quality 
more conspicuous than humility. If he, then, our Lord 
and Master, who was honored by the most distinguished 
tokens of divine grace and who was without sin, still 
cherished a meek and lowly spirit, and strengthened his 
suffering and tempted humanity with prayer ; can we, 
his frail and sinful followers, presume to neglect the 
cultivation of that humility and self-distrust which he 
has sanctioned by his spotless example ! Without them, 
how shall we venture to approach that God, " who re- 
sisteth the proud, but giveth grace unto the humble ;" 
or to indulge the hope, that we are preparing ourselves 
for the employments and the happiness of that world, 
where " he that exalteth himself shall be abased, and he 
that humbleth himself shall be exalted !" 
10 



74 



PRAYER. 

Father of mercies! we are frail and sinful creatures : 
grant us thy forgiveness, and succor us with thine all- 
powerful aid. Awaken in us a deep feeling of our un- 
worthiness and sin ; and in that consciousness of weak- 
ness and imperfection quicken the spirit of Christian 
penitence. Give us an humbling sense of our moral 
weaknesses and wants, and draw us unto Thyself, in 
that new and living way which Thou hast appointed, 
as the sole and all-sufficient Fountain of grace and 
strength. Deliver us from all pride, arrogance and self- 
sufficiency. We would embrace thy offers and improve 
thy mercies with humility and thankfulness, sitting and 
listening at the feet of thy blessed Son, and willing to 
become the little children of his kingdom. We pray 
that the spirit of Christ may be ever on our hearts, and 
his example continually before our eyes ; that we may 
take his yoke upon us, and learn of him his meekness 
and lowliness of heart. May his humility be grafted 
on our souls ; that in devotedness to Thee and duty, in 
tender sympathy with the wants and sufferings of our 
fellow-men, and in calmness, sobriety and self-posses- 
sion of spirit, we may walk in the footsteps of his humil- 
ity and benevolence on earth; and, when our day of 
trial and discipline is over, may we be welcomed as his 
faithful followers to that, kingdom of peace and joy, 
where the meek, the merciful, the lowly and the pure 
in heart shall dwell with him and Thee for evermore. 
Amen. 



SERMON IV. 



OJV SELF-RE COLLE CT1 ON. 



1 Kings xix. 9. 

" WHAT DOEST THOU HERE ?" 

It is the character of a wise man that he considereth 
his ways. The highest knowledge is that of our own 
nature and characters ; a knowledge which cannot be 
gained without deep and serious examination into the 
motives of our conduct, and into the habitual state of 
our feelings. And nothing, perhaps, is so great an 
assistance in this important business, as frequent self- 
recollection, if I may so speak, — abrupt pauses in our 
various occupations and pursuits, during which we may 
make a short but pointed inquiry as to the object about 
which we are engaged. It would be found of great use 
in forming our minds to an habitual respect for God and 
duty, to address to ourselves the awakening question, 
which a Divine voice put to the fugitive Prophet, — 
"Whatdoest thou here, Elijah?" The question was 
designed to awaken him to consider, whether he was 
in the way of duty, or not. He had been raised up for 



76 

the especial purpose of reproving Israel for sin, and 
effecting a permanent reformation of public manners. 
The God who called him, had appeared in an extraor- 
dinary manner to cheer and to support him. When he 
appeared before the assembled tribes and the Priests of 
Baal, to assert the supremacy of the everlasting Jeho- 
vah, the fire from heaven had descended upon the sacri- 
fice, showing that God of a truth was with him : " Yea, 
the hand of the Lord was upon Elijah :" yet when 
" Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how 
he had slain the Priests of Baal with the sword," then 
the soul of the Prophet sunk within him, his courage 
forsook him, and he fled for his life. He went a day's 
journey into the wilderness, fear followed his footsteps, 
and voices of terror sounded in his ears. He fled to 
Horeb, and came into a cave, and lodged there: but 
the word of the Lord pursued him, and said unto him, 
"What doest thou here, Elijah ? Is this the post of 
duty? Is it fitting that thou, supported by Almighty 
power, shouldst tremble and flee before the insolent 
daughter of pride and wickedness? Oughtest thou to 
forsake the cause of God and of religion, when that 
cause demands the most courageous, devoted zeal? 
Arise, and return to duty." Such was the expostula- 
tion addressed to his servant by the Sovereign whose 
cause he had deserted ; and it was addressed to him in 
accents of kindness and compassion. The whole narra- 
tive affords us a sublime and affecting instance of the 
manner in which He who " knoweth our frame, and 
remembers that we are but dust," mingles mercy with 
his judgments. When the Prophet appeared before the 
Lord as a trembling fugitive, and had reason to expect 



77 

his just displeasure, " behold the Lord passed [hy, and 
a great and stormy wind rent the mountains, and brake 
in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was 
not in the wind ; and after the wind, an earthquake, 
but the Lord was not in the earthquake ; and after the 
earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire ; 
and after the fire a still small voice, and it was so when 
Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle 
and stood at the entering in of the cave, and behold 
there came a voice unto him and said, What doest thou 
here, Elijah ?» 

Let me have your serious attention, whilst I en- 
deavor to bring home the inquiry of the text, by apply- 
ing it to the common concerns and employments of life, 
to your ordinary engagements and to your religious 
duties. 

I. Human life was intended to be a scene of activity 
and usefulness. God designs no individual to be idle. 
An idle man is the pest of society, and has no just claim 
upon the bounties of providence, or the exertions of his 
fellow creatures. God, who has given us understand- 
ings to contrive, and hands to execute, requires us to 
employ them. It is the dictate of reason, justice and 
religion, " If any man will not work, neither let him 
eat." Labor is a duty, and much of the happiness of 
life is found in employment. Nevertheless our exer- 
tions maybe so directed, as to interfere with duty ; we 
may not only labor for that which profketh not, but in 
that which is most hurtful ; — there are employments, 
trades and professions, which, though encouraged by the 
laws of our country, and tolerated by the depraved 
standard of worldly morality, Christian principle would 



78 

shrink from. The question, therefore, should suggest 
itself at the very outset, when we reflect upon the situ- 
ation which we occupy in society, the trade or profes- 
sion in which we are engaged — " What doest thou 
here ?" is this employment a lawful one? is it honor- 
able and of good report ? is it such as I can attend to 
in all its branches, without departing from the straight 
and narrow path, without injuring the fair fame of reli- 
gion, and the purity of my own soul? When such ques- 
tions can be answered in the affirmative, it is well; but 
when they cannot, the question assumes a still more 
important form, for it is a question whether to sacrifice 
external transitory good, or inward satisfaction and 
peace, — whether to let go true religion or some portion 
of the world's advantages, — whether to live to time or 
for eternity. The holy Apostle, according to a correct 
rendering of his language, exhorts Titus to " affirm 
constantly that those who have believed in God, be 
careful to excel in reputable occupations," that is, hon- 
orable in themselves, and useful to mankind. It is the 
duty of every Christian, who is engaged in the business 
of the world, to be diligent, to make the most of his 
time, and to improve all his opportunities of righteous 
gain : — a doctrine which, I have no doubt, few persons 
in the present day will object to. There is, however, 
another point, equally important, to be attended to, and 
without which the Apostle's notion of diligence in bu- 
siness would not be complete. He exhorts us to be 
" diligent in business, fervent in spirit, serving the 
Lord;" and in another place, he addresses his converts 
thus: " Brethren, let every one, in the condition in 
which he was called, abide therein with God." To 



79 

these cautions and qualifications, let us take heed ; 
whilst we seize upon the language of scripture, to vin- 
dicate an attention to our worldly interests, let us not 
forget the intructions of that same scripture, which 
would prevent things temporal occupying that situation 
in our thoughts which should be given to things eternal. 
Attend, my hearers, to the proper business of your 
worldly callings, but "abide therein with God;" re- 
member that the eye of Omniscience is upon you, and 
that all your secret thoughts and wishes, as well as the 
strict letter of your dealings, are before him. Take 
heed lest the cares of this life prevent the growth of the 
divine life within. Whilst engaged in business, wheth- 
er in manual occupation, or transactions in trade, guard 
against inordinate desires, and " covetousness, which is 
idolatry ; let no man go beyond or defraud his brother 
in any matter, but adhere to those things which are 
true and just and honorable, honest and lovely, and of 
good report. Frequently, amidst your pursuits and 
engagements, let there be a moment's attention paid to 
the voice which says, " What doest thou here?" Put 
the inquiry to yourselves — What am I doing ? am I 
acting with perfect sincerity and integrity, with re- 
strained desires, and with hopes regulated by the spirit 
of religion? Am I acting without guile, covetousness 
or meanness, without partiality and without hypocrisy? 
— And especially when you enter upon the labors and 
occupations of the day, inquire, Is this the proper hour 
at which I ought to be thus engaged ? have all the du- 
ties which should have conducted me to this hour been 
discharged? is there no duty which I owe to God, to 
my family or to myself, that has been omitted ? have 



80 

all the claims of devotion and gratitude, of prayer and 
praise, been attended to? If they have not, what do I 
here? how can I attend with satisfaction to the busi- 
ness of the day? how can 1 expect upon it the blessing 
of my Heavenly Father ? 

II. Let us further endeavor to bring the question to 
ourselves in seasons of necessary relaxation, when the 
business of life is suspended, for the refreshment of the 
spirits and the recruiting of wearied nature. Religion 
is a spirit which diffuses itself through all the events and 
circumstances of life, which pervades and animates 
all the faculties and affections of the soul, and directs 
and governs all the active powers. It is the yielding of 
ourselves to God, the offering of ourselves — body, soul 
and spirit, the natural, the intellectual, the spiritual 
man — a living sacrifice, whilst we do all things in the 
name of Jesus Christ to the praise of the Most High. 
He in whom dwelleth this Heavenly spirit, whether he 
eats or drinks or whatsoever he does, does all to the glory 
of God. This is religion. There is no circumstance in 
our being of which we can say it stands apart from 
religion ; for there are no circumstances of our lives 
wherein we can say it is not in God that we live. To 
forget God at those seasons when we are about to par- 
take of the provisions which he has furnished for our 
support, or of the repose in which we give ourselves up 
to the image of death, that we may rise with a fresh 
supply of the energies of life ; to forget God at such 
times is so unnatural, that common consent of man- 
kind, in all nations where religion exists at all, has 
sanctioned the propriety of some devout acknowledg- 
ments. Yet how often, at our social meals, do we act 



81 

as if we had no sense of the bounty of divine Providence, 
or the wise and gracious purposes for which it is dis- 
pensed ; and how often, when the labors of the day are 
closed, do we give ourselves up to dreamy forgetfulness, 
and indulge in the luxury of repose beyond the de- 
mands of nature, not considering that rest was intended 
to be the minister of action ; that sleep is like death a 
blessing only as the means of renewed activity and life. 
Let us learn to think and to act with greater wisdom 
and discretion. When we sit down to our domestic 
meals, or social entertainments, let us not imagine that 
we have there nothing to do with God, for we have to 
bless him for his goodness, to partake of the blessings of 
his providence with moderation, and to use his gifts as 
not abusing them. When our mere animal wants are 
satisfied, and we linger around the social board, let us 
not forget that the guide of life should be duty, and not 
enjoyment; and let us ask, whether we are not trifling 
away our time, whilst we have much to do in the im- 
portant business of t life ; much that we have yet left un- 
done for the honor of religion, for the happiness of 
man, for the improvement of our minds, and our ever- 
lasting prosperity? And when the season of repose 
approaches, when the still shades of evening steal over 
us, or night draws the curtains of darkness around us, 
when another day, as far as the business of life is con- 
cerned, stands recorded in the past, written in God's 
book of judgment, should we not devote some time to 
self-recollection ? Is it fitting that we should pass at 
once from the cares of the world, and the tumults of 
passion, to that state of oblivion from which thousands 
have been awakened in the eternal world, to appear at 
11 



82 

the judgment seat of Christ? Nay, is it wise, is it 
prudent even on lower considerations, that days and 
nights, extending through weeks and months and years, 
should be thus massed and confounded together, with- 
out order and almost without any ascertained end ? 
Yet how many professed Christians are there, who have 
cause to blush when they hear the advice which fell 
from a Heathen's pen, " Before we betake ourselves to 
rest, we ought to review and examine all the passages 
of the day, that we may have the comfort of what we 
have done aright, and may redress what we find to 
have been amiss, and make the shipwrecks of one day- 
be as marks to direct our course in another." The 
monitory voice which has followed us all the day long, 
if not listened to amidst the active employments of life, 
in scenes of public resort and in the crowd of worldly 
interests, may surely be allowed a hearing at the 
eleventh hour, for a little while in the silence of evening. 
That voice fails not to say, " What doest thou here ?" 
Neglect it not, but take up the solemn inquiry, What 
am I doing ? is it that which I ought to be doing ? 
what have I done during this day ? is it that, and that 
only, which I ought to have done ? what duties have I 
left unperformed — what follies, if not crimes, have I 
been guilty of — have I no sins to repent of — no bless- 
ings to be thankful for — is there nothing yet to be done 
in my own heart, or in my family, for my servants or 
for my children ? Happy are ye, if to such inquiries 
conscience whispers peace ; and happy are ye, if your 
hearts now testify that upon all these points you have 
lived in good conscience before God unto this day ! 
III. Let me further impress upon you the propriety 



83 

of self-recollection amidst your recreations and amuse- 
ments. Some portion of recreation is necessary; amuse- 
ments may be enjoyed, not only without guilt, but with 
great advantage. The Holy Saviour chose to sanction 
with his presence a festive party, and in one of his 
beautiful parables he speaks of the amusements of youth 
in language which shows that he approved of a sprightly 
joyful temper, and condemned that sullen, morose dis- 
position, which refuses to join in innocent diversions. 
But we must not forget, that life was given us, not for 
diversion, but for duty, and we must therefore be care- 
ful not to sacrifice to mere entertainment and pleasure, 
those portions of our time which should be devoted to 
business, to self-cultivation, or to religion. We should 
remember, too, that though amusement in itself is law- 
ful, there are amusements which are forbidden ; we 
must therefore consider the time, the place, the nature 
and tendency of the diversions we partake of. There 
are places and society into which we may not go, to 
partake of amusements, which are not improper in 
themselves. There are amusements in themselves most 
harmless and interesting, which may be engaged in, in a 
spirit and for purposes highly censurable. There are 
amusements unobjectionable for a different class of soci- 
ety, which may not accord with our circumstances and 
characters. On all these matters we ought to exercise 
a sound discretion, and to be governed by the spirit of 
religion; and it would materially assist us in forming 
a just decision, were we, in the choice or in the enjoy- 
ment of our recreations and amusements, to pause and 
inquire, "What doest thou here?" can I lift up my 
soul to heaven and say, Father, vouchsafe to keep m e 



84 

in this matter free from sin; so teach me to govern my 
affections and feelings, that in the enjoyment of these 
pleasures I may not forget Thee? is this a place in 
which a Christian should be found? is this society with 
which a Christian should sympathize ? find I here the 
sentiments, the habits, the entertainment which should 
delight, even for a moment, a Christian mind? If a 
Christian should, unfortunately, find himself, by some 
unaccountable agency, engaged in the act of gambling, 
or entering the portals of a Theatre, and were seriously 
to put these questions to himself, what can you imagine 
would be the result? If he were really to say to him- 
self, Where am I going — what am 1 about — what do I 
here ? can you believe it possible for him to proceed 
with any degree of self-approbation ? Rest assured 
that nothing can be lawful which will not bear such in- 
quiries. 

IV. An important point remains. Let me persuade 
you to cultivate a habit of self-recollection in regard to 
your religious duties ; in secret devotion — in family 
worship — in the public services — and, those of you who 
comply with the command of Jesus, in the celebration 
of the Lord's Supper. These are acts which, however 
they may endeavor to extenuate the neglect of them, 
I never yet knew any professed Christians amongst us 
value themselves upon omitting, or recommend others 
to omit. I take for granted that all of you acknow- 
ledge private, public and family worship to be desirable 
and advantageous. The inquiry which I urge is not, 
therefore, with a design to ascertain whether these du- 
ties are wholly neglected, but whether they are attended 
to at fit seasons, and in a becoming manner. When 



85 

you are about to bend the knee before your Father, 
which seeth in secret, ask, "What do I here?" is this 
the proper season for me to be here — ought not my de- 
vout thanksgivings and self-dedication to have taken 
place at an earlier hour ? If conscience accuses you of 
no fault in this respect, ask, What ought I now to do ? 
ought I not to impress my heart with the conviction 
that all my sufficiency is of God — ought I not to con- 
secrate afresh my whole being to his service, and pray 
that he would guide me this day by his counsel ? Let 
a similar inquiry be made with regard to family wor- 
ship. And when you enter any place of public worship, 
remember the question " what doest thou here" — for 
what purpose am I come hither ? am J come for reli- 
gious instruction, spiritual improvement, and an in- 
creasing fitness for Heaven? or am I come merely from 
custom and decency, or by the command of others ? 
Before you enter, say, What do I here now ? the minis- 
ter is reading the scriptures, or the congregation have 
half finished their first hymn of praise, or the prayer is 
almost ended, the people have confessed their sins, and 
asked forgiveness ; they have returned thanks for their 
blessings — they have prayed for all needful mercies — 
and I am come just in time to say " Amen" to what I 
have had no concern with. Is this the proper time for 
me to enter the sanctuary of God ? And during the 
service, are the scriptures being read or expounded ? — 
recollect yourselves and put the question, What am I 
doing? attending? trying to understand and to remem- 
ber ? or letting my thoughts wander, thinking of any- 
thing rather than the word of God ? In the singing, 
too, consider whether you are entering into the senti- 



86 

ments of the hymn ; whether you feel what you utter ; 
whether you are sensible of the fact that you are actu- 
ally engaged in what ought to be a solemn and delight- 
ful exercise of the most generous and noble affections 
of the human soul. For, let me remind you, that 
to utter the praises of God with reverence and holy 
fear, is an affair of precisely the same obligation as to 
pray to him with humble, reverential, and contrite 
hearts ; and if the singing be a proper part of Christian 
worship, it is a duty to make it as solemn, impressive, 
and affecting a part of the service as we can. But to 
carry on the suggestions I was making — you will find 
it frequently of great use to check the current of your 
thoughts for a moment even in the prayers, to inquire 
whether your affections are indeed borne upwards on the 
wings of devotion, or bowed down to earth by insensi- 
bility and thoughtlessness ; whether you are making 
your own the supplications and thanksgivings which are 
poured forth in your ears, or whether the whole of your 
devotion is included in that mere change of position, 
which decency requires you to preserve till the conclud- 
ing ascription of praise is pronounced. Speak often thus 
to yourselves, and you will find the devotional part of 
the services much more profitable, and not the less de- 
lightful. And whilst you are listening to the sermon, 
ask, With what motives and feelings am I hearing ? 
What do I wish to hear ? something more enlarged and 
excellent than what I know, or just so much as will 
make me satisfied with my present views and informa- 
tion ? something that will make me pleased with myself, 
or something that will shake my self-confidence and ani- 
mate me to fresh exertions ? something to palliate my 



87 

indifference, my worldly-mindedness, my negligence and 
sin, or something to show me the malignity of every sin, 
and make me feel the danger of all indifference, and 
every particle of the spirit of the world ? What do I 
wish to hear ? And, what am I hearing ; the language 
of reason, or of folly ? Is the preacher trying to per- 
suade me to believe a lie, or is he enforcing important 
truth that concerns my salvation ? Am I at all inter- 
ested in the great realities which he holds up to my 
contemplation ? His words have often been to me as a 
pleasant song, which has lulled me to repose : have I 
not been sleeping upon the verge of a precipice ? have 
I not at stake an immortal interest in the truths which 
are even now falling from his lips ? If I have not a su- 
preme desire to free myself from sin, to grow in holi- 
ness and prepare for Heaven, what do I here ? 

Finally, ye who in addition to other means of spiri- 
tual improvement and happiness, avail yourselves of 
the inspiring motives furnished by the Supper of the 
Lord, let me not forget to remind you of the necessity 
of self-recollection when you come to celebrate that holy 
rite. To you, Jesus, the great master of the feast, says, 
What doest thou here ? Friend, wherefore art thou 
come ? Hast thou repented of sin, and art thou come to 
celebrate the love which promised and confirmed for- 
giveness ? Hast thou been captivated by the beauty of 
holiness, and art thou come that the spirit of holiness 
may be shed abroad in thy heart ? Hast thou believed 
that my Father is also thy Heavenly Parent, that I am 
ascended to him, to prepare, in his house, mansions for 
those that follow me ? and art thou come to strengthen 
thy faith, to elevate thy hopes, to purify and quicken 



88 

thy desire to partake of a divine nature ? If such be 
the thought of thy heart, take, eat, and be abundantly 
satisfied ; take, and drink, yea, drink of the waters of 
the river of life freely. 

I might extend the inquiry to a much greater vari- 
ety of circumstances and characters, but it is enough to 
have suggested the manner in which self-recollection 
maybe employed. I leave it to you to apply it to your- 
selves, as the desire of your own improvement and a 
regard to the voice of conscience shall dictate ; only 
adding, that you will find it as easy as it is useful, that 
it will be the means of bringing you acquainted with 
your own characters, and of enabling you, whilst you 
stand in judgement at the bar of conscience, to form an 
estimate of your fitness to appear at the judgment-seat 
of Christ, It is an easy practice ; it requires no great 
length of time, no extraordinary ability, no painful ex- 
ertion of the mind. It can be employed at any time, in 
any circumstances, by any person. It is, in fact, only 
the realization of our present thoughts, feelings and mo- 
tives : a looking at ourselves as we are at the moment. 
Religion is a habit, where it has any real existence ; and 
whether it has a real existence, is best indicated by little 
things, by the motives and feelings by which we are 
swayed in our ordinary pursuits and occupations, and 
the regular routine of our lives. Now, nothing can have 
so direct a tendency to make religion habitual, as fre- 
quent self-inquiry, for it will teach us to be diligent, 
prudent, thoughtful; it will teach us to redeem our 
time, to reverence our moral nature, to stand in filial 
awe of that great Being to whom we must finally render 
an account. Thus there will be nothing discordant in 



89 

our varied engagements. Worldly business, domestic 
duties, social enjoyment, religious exercises will form an 
harmonious whole, animated by one Divine Spirit, and 
glowing with one pervading beauty, even the beauty of 
holiness. Oh ! that we might all realize the heavenly 
picture ! for to this we are called : " as many as are in 
Christ Jesus have put on Christ." And such was the 
divine temper of his mind. He was ever intent upon 
the work that his Father had given him to do. 
He was always in his proper place, and discharged 
every duty at its proper season, and therefore " he did 
all things well." Let his example add weight to the 
advice which has been given you; and remember that it 
is he which is appointed of God to be the judge of quick 
and dead — the judge of thoughts as well as actions, of 
secret motives as well as public deeds. We may shrink 
from self-inspection ; we may refuse to look at the pic- 
ture of our own hearts, and turn a deaf ear to the re- 
proofs of conscience ; but we cannot escape the just 
judgment of God. When Christ shall demand an ac- 
count of our stewardship, that account must be rendered. 
May we all so profit by the word which has been spoken, 
that we may render up our account with joy, and not 
with fear; may we be nourished and built up in faith 
and holiness, that when Christ shall appear, we may be 
found of him in peace. Amen. 



PRAYER. 

Oh ! Thou who searchest the hearts, and knowest 
the thoughts of the children of men, before Thee do we 
12 



90 

bow down with humility and reverence. If we should 
say that we have not sinned, our own hearts would con- 
demn us ; how much more, then, the strictness of thy 
holy law ! Before Thee, a God of unchangeable rec- 
titude, we can only appear with hope, whilst we present 
ourselves as penitent sinners, relying upon the promises 
of the glorious gospel. Thanks be unto Thee, most 
Merciful, that Thou hast given to us a good hope through 
Jesus Christ our Lord, by whom we have access unto 
Thee, the Father. Vouchsafe at this time to listen to 
our prayers, and grant a gracious answer to our petitions. 
May it please Thee to accompany with thy blessing the 
exhortations to which our attention has now been di- 
rected. Ignorant, too often of ourselves, may we bring 
our tempers and habits to the standard of thy truths, 
that we may forsake that which is evil, and cleave to 
that which is good. Deliver us from pride, and vanity, 
and worldliness, and shed abroad in our hearts the 
spirit of universal holiness. Save us from the per- 
nicious influence of secret faults, and from the guilt of 
presumptuous sins. Increase our faith, and confirm our 
obedience. May the mind that was in Jesus be in us. 
Whilst we are in the world, may we be kept from the 
evil which is in it through sin ; may we be useful in 
the stations which thy Providence has assigned us ; may 
we enjoy the testimony of a good conscience, and be ever 
found at the post of duty. And whilst we are thus en- 
deavoring to follow the example of our Holy Saviour, 
may we possess that divine peace, which he promised to 
his followers, and patiently wait for his coming to judg- 
ment. Merciful Father, we commit ourselves and all 
our interests into thy hands. Be Thou our Guide, even 



91 

unto death, and the strength of our hearts ; and when 
He who is our life shall appear, may we also appear 
with him in glory. In his name we offer up our prayers, 
and through him, the only Mediator, ascribe unto Thee, 
the Everlasting God, the kingdom, the power, and the 
glory. Amen, 



SERMON V. 



THE jYE W YEAR, 



2 Cor. vi. 6. 



BEHOLD! NOW IS THE ACCEPTED TIME, NOW IS THE DAT OF SALVA- 
TION ! " 



It is an observation of the excellent Fenelon, that, 
" God, though most liberal and bounteous of all other 
things, yet teaches us, by the frugal dispensations of his 
providence, how careful we ought to be to make good 
use of time, because he never grants us two moments 
together, nor vouchsafes a second, until he has with- 
drawn the first, still keeping the third in his own hand, 
so that we are entirely uncertain whether we shall have 
it or not." How forcibly is this remark brought home 
to us by the present season ! Another year is added to 
the past. A year ago, it was the land of uncertainty, 
now, it is the land of experience ; then, it was the fairy 
ground of hope, now, it is the province of memory ; 
then, it shone in the brightness of anticipation, now, it 
is clothed with the sober hues of reflection ; its last 
duty is discharged, its last trial is endured, its last plea- 



93 

sure is enjoyed, its last act of neglect and ingratitude 
is performed. It is gone. The truth is solemn, it is 
striking. When we think of it, we are compelled to 
pause ; we look backward, and we feel that there we 
have no resting place ; we look forward, we begin to 
indulge the same hopes and fears with which we anti- 
cipated the year that has passed ; but the thought irre- 
sistibly rushes upon us, wherefore these vain imaginings ? 
wherefore these delusive dreams ? who knows what a 
day may bring forth ? How frequently have the bright 
sunbeams of hope been suddenly obscured by the storm 
of affliction ! how often hath the dreaded cloud of sor- 
row broken upon our heads in blessings ! how many 
unlooked for trials, how many unexpected pleasures has 
every preceding year presented ! And then memory 
awakens the thought of those, who once, perhaps at the 
commencement of the year that is gone, shared in such 
anticipations. They have been cut off by death ; the 
tongue that uttered the words of congratulation is mute ; 
the heart that beat warm with affection is cold ; and 
the mind that was gladdened by hope, is buried in in- 
sensibility. Their forms rise up before us ; they speak 
to us, and they tell us that their sentence was written in 
heaven, " This year thou shalt die." They admonish, 
with an eloquence which none can resist, saying to each 
of us, "This year mayst thou die." This year, this 
month, this week, nay, this very hour, we may be sum- 
moned ; at this moment, the angel of death may have 
received his commission ; at the next, the silver cord 
may be loosened ; and our spirits shall return to God 
who gave them. 

"When we think of these things, how striking do we 



94 

feel the conviction, that the present moment is all that 
we can call our own ! the past is gone, the future may 
never arrive ; now, now, alone is ours. Oh ! that the 
solemn truth may take deep hold upon us ! Yes, fel- 
low-christians, fellow-mortals, the whole of that life, of 
which we make such boast, is but a series of these mo- 
ments. It is a chain composed of an infinite number of 
links, each infinitely small, whose series every link may 
terminate, whose connexion every breath may dissolve : 
"Verily our life, even at the longest, is but a hand's 
breadth, as a tale that is told, as a weaver's shuttle : as 
for man, his days are as the grass, as the flower of the 
field, so he flourisheth ; in the morning it groweth up and 
flourisheth, in the evening it is cut down and withereth." 
" Behold ! now is the accepted time, now is the day 
of salvation : " this is the appeal which God every moment 
makes to us — God, who is the lengthener of our days, who 
will be our portion forever. Every moment we have 
some duty to discharge, some lesson to learn, some mercy 
to enjoy, some hope to cherish, or some affliction to bear, 
by which we may secure "his favor which is life, and 
his loving-kindness which is better than life." Every 
moment, if rightly employed, will tend to save us from 
the power and from the punishment of sin, to deliver us 
from all that is impure and imperfect within us; to 
strengthen everything that is holy, heavenly, and en- 
during ; so to prepare us, " when this earthly house of 
our tabernacle shall be dissolved," to take up our ever- 
lasting abode "in that house not made with hands, 
eternal in the heavens." " Behold, now is the accepted 
time." At all times, and in all places, God requires of us 
some act of devotion, the performance of which will se- 



95 

cure his acceptance : his arm continually supports us in 
life, and he calls upon us to consecrate ourselves wholly 
to him. 

The truths which he has revealed to us are calculated 
to influence all our thoughts, and all our feelings ; and, 
if we have any regard for his favor, if we despise not 
his promise, we shall gladly devote every moment to 
him. Yet is not the feeling too prevalent amongst us, 
that religion has nothing in common with the business, 
and pleasures, and trials, which we meet with in the 
daily intercourse of life ? And does not this misconcep- 
tion of its nature mingle largely amongst those senti- 
ments which make us unwilling to yield ourselves en- 
tirely to its influence ? And has it not been the chief 
source of that neglect, which, when we reflect upon the 
past year, deprives us of so much of that peace, and sat- 
isfaction, and joy, which the retrospect might have 
afforded us ? If so, let us inquire whether the view we are 
apt to take of religion, as something too vast, too sacred, to 
mingle with the daily concerns of life, can for a moment 
be seriously defended ? Did Christian obedience con- 
sist altogether in the contemplation of the attributes of 
God, did it require that the soul should constantly be over- 
whelmed with that awe which the glory of his majesty 
is fitted to inspire, then were it indeed our duty to retire 
from the world, to stifle every natural emotion in the dull 
seclusion of a hermit's cell, to exclude from the mind 
every object of sense, except the cloister's " dim reli- 
gious light." Who that has an understanding to discern 
the wonderful application of things, can imagine for a 
moment, that this constitutes the acceptable worship 
*that God requires of us ? The heart imbued with a ca- 



96 

pacity for affections, and the circumstances in which we 
are placed, are such as naturally give birth to these 
emotions. The eye was formed to behold the beauties 
of external nature, and nature was made beautiful, and 
the mind was made capable of deriving pleasure from 
contemplating it. The body required food and raiment, 
and the earth was formed to bring forth fruits ; it was 
peopled with living animals, it was filled with mineral 
and metallic stores, and reason was given to us to teach 
us how to make them subservient to our comfortable 
subsistence. Surely, then, Christianity was not intended 
to render all this astonishing contrivance of none effect ; 
surely it does not command us ungratefully to neglect 
these means of happiness ; surely the wisdom of God, 
which these adaptations display, could not have pro- 
mulgated a religion unconnected, inconsistent, with the 
proper use of them ; surely the goodness which they 
manifest, could not have prompted miraculous interpo- 
sition, except in order to complete the work, by teaching 
man rightly to value, rightly to improve them, by 
heightening their delight, by alleviating their pains, by 
rendering them the means of carrying us forward to a 
degree of moral, intellectual perfection, that is worthy 
of the sons of God. Do not its truths tend to influence 
every thought and every feeling ? Does it not teach us 
to refer everything to its Divine Author ? Does it not 
encourage us in all things to put our trust in him ? 
Does it not exhort, whatsoever we do, whether in word 
or deed, to do all in the name of the Lord Jesus ? Can 
it be a profanation of religion to appeal to its motives 

in the discharge of the daily duties of life ? Can it be 

• 
criminal, in the midst of our pleasures, to indulge the 



97 

delightful thought, that they are communicated to us by 
God ? Can it be impious to acknowledge, in everything 
which gives us pain, the chastenings of a father's hand, 
intended by him to convey to us new lessons of wisdom, 
to exercise our faith and patience, to wean us from 
the earth, and to remind us of our heavenly home ? 

When you indulge in the gratification of a literary 
taste, or seek, in the delightful intercourse of the social 
circle, that innocent relaxation which is necessary to fit 
the mind for more arduous duties ; when you are har- 
assed by the trials and vexatious disappointments which 
you meet with daily in the world, remember, that at all 
these seasons, religion has a claim upon you. If in all 
these things you maintain habitual regard to the will of 
God, if you strive to govern every thought and every 
feeling by the truths of the gospel of his Son, every 
moment, so employed, shall be accepted by him. 
What moment, then, is there in which we have no 
religious duty to perform ? What moment is there 
in which we may not encourage the delightful re- 
flection that we are living to God ? W r hat moment is 
there in which we may not do something to testify our 
love, our gratitude, to him ? 

Wherefore, Christian, shouldst thou spend thy time 
in idle speculations as to the future, in useless, anxious 
cares as to coming difficulties? Wherefore shouldst 
thou indulge for an instant in listless inactivity ? " Be- 
hold ! now is the accepted time." In every moment of 
indolence or thoughtlessness let this appeal be heard, 
and let it stimulate us to renewed exertion. When 
temptations assault us, and our feeble resolutions begin 
to waver, let it arouse our latent energies, and strengthen 
13, 



98 

us for the combat ; when afflictions surround us, and 
cares perplex us, and the prospect of a long course of 
arduous duties almost overwhelms us, let it prompt us 
to a vigorous effort to perform the duties of the present 
moment ; let it suggest to us the encouraging reflection, 
that each successive moment will bring with it but one 
duty, and let it assure us, for every such effort, God will 
be our reward : "Verily our labor shall not be in vain 
in the Lord." " Behold ! now is the the day of salva- 
tion." 

We speak of the rapidity with which our moments fly, 
and when they are gone, w r e think of them as though 
they were gone forever. " Gone! they ne'er go;" in 
our own hearts their record is written ; in our virtuous 
habits, and thoughts, and affections, in our pious and 
heavenly aspirations, we behold the trace of every mo- 
ment which has been rightly, which has been religiously 
employed. In our evil thoughts and habits and affections, 
in our indifference to religious truth, in our thoughtless- 
ness and worldly-mindness, we bear upon us the me- 
morial of every moment which has been mispent. We 
cannot, in one individual instance, submit to the author- 
ity of the will of God ; we cannot indulge a religious 
thought; we cannot exercise a christian affection, with- 
out increasing its influence over the mind. Neither 
can we comply with a single temptation, or admit an 
impure or idle imagination, or yield for once to the do- 
minion of an earthly and unholy passion, without rivet- 
ting the chains of evil habits, without strengthening the 
bonds which enslave us within the thraldom of sin. 
What an overpowering motive ought this to furnish, to 
seek in the daily intercourse of life continual opportu- 



99 

nities of exercising our religious principles ! It is not 
by occasional attendance upon the house of God, it is 
not by formal acts of devotion, that the great work of 
our salvation can be accomplished. When these duties 
are rightly performed, they are of themselves of un- 
speakable value. The empire of religion cannot be fully 
established, unless we accustom ourselves continually to 
appeal to its authority ; to make every passion yield 
beneath its sway. Unless we seek its smile to heighten 
our pleasures, its soothing influence to alleviate our sor- 
rows, unless we endeavor to intermingle its truths 
amidst the lively emotions which are daily and hourly 
excited in the intercourse of life. Thus shall we be pu- 
rified, spiritualized, and perfected, and thus shall we be 
made capable of partaking of happiness, " which eye 
hath not seen, nor ear heard, and which it hath not en- 
tered into the heart of man to conceive." In our own 
hearts this record of our moments is written. It is writ- 
ten also in the book of life. In this world, a mind thus 
fitted for heaven seldom fails to be blessed by God with 
" a peace which passeth understanding," and this holy 
tranquillity, the approbation of our own conscience, the 
high delight of pious friendship, and the joys which 
spring from these heavenly hopes, are a foretaste and 
earnest of future bliss. 

The scriptures assure us we shall live again ; 
they teach us to look forward to a time " when 
the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be 
raised, when this corruptible shall put on incorruption, 
and this mortal, immortality ; when the Son of Man 
shall come forth, and all his holy angels with him ; when 
he shall bring every work into judgment, and every 



100 

secret thought, of what sort it is." They tell us " of a 
glory which shall be revealed, of a crown of rejoicing, 
cf an eternal rest," of a period when " all that is im- 
perfect shall be done away, when we shall no longer 
see through a glass darkly, when we shall know even 
as we are known." They direct our expectations to- 
wards a " heavenly Jerusalem, where the sun shall no 
more be our light by day, nor the moon by night, but 
God shall be our everlasting light, and the days of our 
mourning shall be ended." Christian, the knell of the 
departed year proclaims in solemn sounds that we are 
mortal ; it declares, to perishing mortals, that on every 
point of time, we stand between two worlds. It leads 
us to anticipate our last moment ; it places us upon the 
verge of immortality ; at such a season, can we be in- 
sensible to the value of these glorious hopes ? Can we 
hesitate to embrace the great salvation ? What is the 
duty of the present moment? It is to resolve. Oh! 
that what has heen said, may induce us to resolve, in 
the strength of God, to be more assiduous in our efforts 
to bring our religious principles into daily, into hourly 
exercise ! If we delay thus to resolve, the present mo- 
ment, will have confirmed our habit of inattention to 
religion ; it will have diminished our time to repent 
while it will have rendered the work of repentance more 
arduous. Let this moment, by our pious resolution, be 
rendered by each of us an accepted time ; let it tend 
to promote the work of our salvation, and help us all 
so to improve every succeeding moment, that whenever 
our change shall come, we may be prepared to meet 
our God. 



101 



PRAYER. 

Thou who hast given us life ! we bless Thee that 
Thou hast ordained its moments to come and pass 
away as messengers from Thee to teach us our relation 
to Thee ; to warn us of our duties to Thee, to admonish 
us, while we may yet attend, to increase our love for 
all men and to make peace in our own hearts. 

We thank Thee that our mortal being is made up 
of years, and days, and hours, since we may thus be led 
on, step by step, from strength to strength, till we shall 
appear before Thee, where time shall be no more. We 
thank Thee that through the passing away of our years, 
our hearts are softened by remembrances of thy tender 
care ; humbled by the experience of our own weak- 
ness ; animated by the hope of what may yet be attain- 
ed ; and prepared by the succession of thy dispensations 
for their accomplishment in final purity and bliss. O 
may we make the preparation of which Thou admonish- 
est us ! As the lengthening shadows of our life ex- 
tend, may we prepare for ourselves a rest in Thee. If 
in our day we must strive, let it be in thy strength. If 
we must mourn, let our mourning be sanctified by the 
hope that it is from Thee. And, whatever be our 
struggles and our griefs, may we never let go our hold 
on thy grace ; may our strongest impulse still be to re- 
joice evermore. 

For the hopes which gather around death and the 
grave, for the dim discernment which we already have 
of what is beyond, for the firm assurance Thou hast 
given us through Christ Jesus that to each of us those 



102 

transcendent glories shall be at length unveiled, we, thy 
rejoicing children, bless thy hallowed name. O sanctify 
unto us this hope and this faith, that we may draw 
continually nearer to Thee, till we shall become wholly 
thine. Amen. 



SERMON VI 



THE PARABLE OF JYATHAJY, 



2 Sam, xn. 7, 

"AND NATHAN SAID TO DAVID, THOU ART THE MAN." 

The narrative with which these words are connect- 
ed, unfolds the foulest transaction in the history of 
David. Having fixed his affections upon Bathsheba, 
the wife of one of his officers, he determined on obtain- 
ing her hand in marriage, and, with this object in view, 
cruelly plotted against the life of Uriah her husband. 
An opportunity soon presented itself of accomplishing 
his wicked purpose. In a battle between David's army 
and that of the Amorites, Uriah was, by the King's 
command, placed in an unprotected and perilous sta- 
tion, where it was scarcely possible that he should es- 
cape destruction. The cruel and dastardly plan suc- 
ceeded, and the widow of Uriah became the wife of 
David. The displeasure of Heaven was excited against 
the guilty monarch, and Nathan the Prophet was 
commissioned to reprove him. The holy man conveyed 
his reproof in the following parable : " There were two 



104 

men in one city, the one rich and the other poor. The 
rich man had exceeding many flocks and herds : but 
the poor man had nothing save one little ewe lamb, 
which he had bought and nourished up, and it grew up 
together with him and with his children : it did eat of his 
own meat, and drank of his own cup, and lay in his bo- 
som, and was unto him as a daughter. And there came 
a traveller unto the rich man, and he spared to take of his 
own flock and of his own herd to dress for the wayfaring 
man that was come unto him, but took the poor man's 
lamb and dressed it for the man that was come unto him." 
David, upon hearing this simple tale of oppression and 
cruelty, was highly indignant ; his " anger was greatly 
kindled against " the rich delinquent, " and he said to 
Nathan, As the Lord liveth, the man that hath done 
this thing shall surely die ; and he shall restore the 
lamb four fold, because he did this thing, and because 
he had no pity. And Nathan said to David, Thou art 
the man. Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, I anoint- 
ed thee king over Israel, and I delivered thee out of 
the hand of Saul, and I gave thee thy master's house, 
and thy master's wives into thy bosom, and gave thee 
the house of Israel and of Judah : and if that had been 
too little, I would moreover have given unto thee such 
and such things. Wherefore hast thou despised the 
commandment of the Lord, to do evil in his sight ? 
Thou hast killed Uriah the Hittite with the sword, and 
hast taken his wife to be thy wife." 

The part of the narrative upon which I now pro- 
ceed to make some plain remarks, is that in which the 
self-ignorance and self-delusion of David are so mani- 
fest. Nathan, in his reproof of the King, had described 



105 

a case of cruel injustice, not unlike to that of which 
David had been guilty ; yet the conscience of the 
monarch smote him not. So little did he suspect that 
the guilt of him of whom the prophet spoke was his own 
guilt, that he passionately declared, " As the Lord 
liveth, the man that hath done this thing shall surely 
die." What, then, must have been his sorrow, mortifi- 
cation and surprise, when the intrepid prophet exclaim- 
ed, " Thou art the man." To his honour, however, it 
is recorded, that he bitterly bewailed his crime, and 
sincerely repented. When he clearly saw the nature 
and heinousness of his conduct, he denied not that the 
parable of Nathan applied closely to himself ; his guilty 
conscience told him that the prophet was right in de- 
nouncing him as a cruel and treacherous offender, and 
he hesitated not to declare, " I have sinned against the 
Lord." Happy those, who have the courage and ingen- 
uousness, however late, to acknowledge their offences ; 
still happier they, who earlier and more clearly see and 
confess them ; and happiest of all, if any such there be, 
whose conscience never whispers, " Thou art the man." 

J. This passage in the history of David may sug- 
gest to us the importance of being intimately acquainted 
with our own characters. 

Liable as we all are, from the frailty of our nature, 
unconsciously to contract bad habits, and to commit 
errors, in which, at the time, we see no great evil ; it 
becomes an important duty, frequently to scrutinize our 
characters and conduct, with an express view to the de- 
tection of our errors, and the amendment of our hearts 
and lives. It is true, that conscience is seldom so dull as 
not to inform us when we are guilty of crimes of extreme 
14 



106 

turpitude ; but the habits in which these crimes most com- 
monly originate, are of gradual formation, and pass with 
little or no remonstrance from the voice of conscience : 
but they pass on, nevertheless, to strengthen and confirm 
those evil tendencies, against which it may be ultimately 
almost impossible to prevail, and the direful consequen- 
ces of which no one can pretend to limit. Thus we 
may insensibly acquire habits, which will lead us, with- 
out compunction, to commit crimes of no ordinary mag- 
nitude ; and hence it is of the highest importance, to 
mark and check the earliest disposition towards evil, 
while the eye of conscience is clear, and while her 
gentlest whisper will be distinctly heard and promptly 
obeyed. But there are some faults which we are ac- 
customed to call minor faults, and, even though they 
are habitually practised, to consider almost undeserving 
of reprehension or notice, because, as we think, it is not 
likely they will ever be attended by any very serious or 
public consequences. Nevertheless, these little faults 
do often more seriously affect a man's general accept- 
ableness as a member of society, than a single error of 
darker hue, into which he may have fallen in a moment 
of inadvertency and moral forgetfulness. Yet, if we 
can acquit ourselves of a participation in all those 
crimes which the public eye notices, and the public 
voice condemns, we think ourselves immaculate, and 
are blind to those every day faults, if we may call them 
so, of temper and demeanor, which greatly diminish 
our usefulness, respectability, and acceptableness in 
those private and domestic scenes, where, after all, the 
influence of the characters of most men is principally 
exercised and felt. We hear with horror of acts of ty- 



107 

ranny, injustice, and oppression ; we weep over tales of 
pity ; we kindle with indignation at the recital of deeds 
of cruelty ; we rail at the slave-master, or the despotic 
monarch, who rules the creatures of his power, with a 
rod of iron ; while if conscience were true to her charge, 
she might perhaps bid many of us " homeward look, 
and melt with ruth," and exclaim, M Thou art the 
man." She might tell us that our temper was haughty, 
overbearing, despotic and unkind ; that, as far as cir- 
cumstances permitted, we exercised an authority little 
short of tyranny and oppression ; that we treated our 
children with austerity and harshness, and regarded our 
servants as slaves ; that, while in the common inter- 
courses of general society, we could be cheerful, cour- 
teous, and kind, still in the place where courtesy and 
kindness would be most prized and are most obligatory 
upon us, we were habitually stern, neglectful or morose. 
In what does the despotic head of a family differ from 
the despotic head of a state, except that his power is 
more limited ; yet, perhaps, he is the loudest in con- 
demning acts of kingly tyranny, suspecting neither that 
he thereby condemns himself, nor that he w r ould doubt- 
less be the perpetrator of the same acts, were his fellow 
despot and he to exchange situations. But how seldom 
is this resemblance noticed ; how are we and the world 
deceived in our judgment of human character. If in 
the circles of gaiety, or at the social table, we can dis- 
play those courteous and convivial qualities, which are 
generally considered a sufficient passport to what is 
called good society, and are too often received as a sub- 
stitute for more solid recommendations, the world asks 
not what our conduct is in the sanctuary of home ; 



108 

whether winning smiles, courteous manners, and delicate 
attentions are observed towards those with whom nature 
has most closely allied us ; and while the world caresses, 
courts and flatters us, we are unconscious of the re- 
proaches which, not loud but deep, are spoken by the 
inmates of our dwelling, in tearful eyes, in timid voices, 
care-worn cheeks, and cloudy brows. So, if our cha- 
racters stand fair with the world for honesty, sobriety, 
and integrity, we fancy that we are free from guilt, 
and the world too often confirms us in the opinion. 

In farther illustration of this subject, it may be re- 
marked, that we often read and talk of states, which 
are ill governed ; we freely comment upon the unwise 
acts of legislators ; we expose the errors into which 
rulers fall in the government of their subjects. Again 
conscience might exclaim to many of us, " Thou art 
the man !" She might show us an ill-regulated house- 
hold, and a mismanaged family : she might remind us 
of extravagance on the one hand, or of parsimony on the 
other : she might point to habits of irregularity, disor- 
der, and neglect, by which our substance was wasted, 
and our .respectability diminished : she might show us 
our children abandoned to themselves ; their minds un- 
instructed, their tempers uncontrolled, their hearts un- 
improved, mental, moral and religious culture alike 
neglected : and she might say to many a parent, who 
is, alas ! unconscious of his error, — " Behold a nursery 
for future wretchedness and guilt ! " Such is an illus- 
tration of those minor faults, as they are accustomed to 
be called, and of the relation which they bear to crimes 
of deeper dye ; and I think I am justified in saying 
that these faults of temper and of discipline, which not 
unfrequently escape our own notice, and that of others 



109 

also, are as injurious, and often more injurious, to the 
interests and happiness of mankind, than errors which, 
in themselves considered, are of greater magnitude. 

In connexion with this part of my subject, I would 
also observe, with reference to the public addresses 
which are delivered from the pulpit, how prone we are 
to imagine that the exposure of faults and follies applies 
to any one rather than to ourselves. When, especially, 
habits of a personal, social or domestic nature become 
the topics of the preacher's discourse, we tax our me- 
mory and our sagacity, to discover for whom the cen- 
sure may be intended, or to whom it correctly applies. 
We think we see or know an individual whom it pre- 
cisely suits, and our charitable concerns for his best in- 
terests bids us hope that he may take it to himself, and 
profit accordingly. But if the still small voice within 
were suffered to be heard, it might unceasingly cry to 
the busiest inquisitor into others' faults, " Thou art the 
man." Yet, how seldom do we admit the charge. 
Which of us even ventures to ask himself, " Am I the 
man to whom this censure can apply ? Is it possible 
that the fault now described, can be my fault? Do I, 
though ignorantly, indulge in it ? " Thus blind and frail, 
let our prayer to Heaven be, " Search me, O God, and 
know my heart ; try me, and know my thoughts ; and 
see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in 
the way everlasting." 

Whatever excellence our characters may display, it 
is unsafe to confide too much in its possession, and to 
consider it impregnably secure. The great Apostle 
never uttered a weighter maxim than this, " Let him 
that thinketh he standeth take heed, lest he fall." It 



liO 

is wise frequently to examine whether there are not 
points in our character which require no extraordinary 
vigilance, caution and defence ; it is wise narrowly to 
inquire whether we have not been, in some degree, 
weakened at these points ; like the skilful general, who 
finds out the most assailable position of his army, and 
takes care both to make it doubly strong, and attentive- 
ly to inspect it from time to time, lest by any chance 
the arrangements he has made should prove insecure. 
It is wise, always rather to suspect ourselves of retain- 
ing the common faults and failings of our race, than to 
flatter ourselves that we are entirely exempt from them. 
When once this valuable habit of vigilance and self-sus- 
picion is acquired, we shall learn at once how to secure 
and improve our virtues, and to correct our errors, and 
guard against the encroachment of others. 

II. From this passage in the history of David, we 
may be instructed, not to be censorious or harsh in our 
judgments of merit, character, and conduct. 

David, upon hearing of an imaginary act of cruelty 
and injustice, similar to his own real crime, became so 
indignant and incensed, that he thought that nothing 
less than the death of the offender could expiate the 
guilt. If the rich oppressor in the parable had been a 
real criminal, the monarch would probably have revok- 
ed the sentence, and decreed a more lenient punish- 
ment, when he discovered that he himself had been 
guilty of a similar offence. Thus an acquaintance with 
our own frailty will make us lenient to the faults of 
others ; at least, we shall hesitate to condemn them, 
until we have rigidly examined our own conduct. If 
we then stand self-convicted of the same or similar er- 



Ill 

rors, we shall not be foremost among those who denounce 
an offender ; and be more clamorous than the rest, in 
order to drown the cry of conscience, " Thou art the 
man :" but we shall humbly and pensively withdraw to 
the quiet retirement of our own hearts, weep for our 
erring brother, and shed tears of twofold bitterness be- 
cause his guilt was ours. 

" If we would judge ourselves, we should not be judg- 
ed ; " if, too, we would judge ourselves, we should 
judge less harshly of others. There are few failings 
more common, than that of a disposition to censure and 
ridicule. The world is sufficiently unkind in its remarks ; 
and there are persons whose great delight it is to detect 
and expose even those trifling inaccuracies and peculi- 
arities of demeanor which for the most part escape our 
notice, and to magnify them into great faults. There 
are many, who, either from a spirit of uncharitableness, 
or from a desire to amuse others by a display of their 
wit and power of satire, or from a consciousness of their 
own failings, which they hope to hide, while they direct 
attention to the failings of others, seek diligently in the 
conduct of their neighbors, for topics upon which they 
may vent their spleen or exercise their ridicule. How- 
ever severely this spirit is to be condemned, it must be 
acknowledged that it is highly desirable that our own 
characters should, as little as possible, furnish themes for 
just censure or derision. Errors and failings, which in 
themselves may be trifling, will infallibly arrest the at- 
tention of a sneering and criticising world, and unless 
corrected, will make us among many men the objects of 
laughter, scorn or calumny. As much of our comfort, 
respectability and usefulness must depend on our free- 



112 

dom from such defects, we ought not to deem them un- 
worthy of our careful correction. By narrowly observing 
our own tempers, tastes and habits, and detecting all 
that is faulty, we shall save others the trouble of detect- 
ing it for us, and escape the censure, which they will 
freely bestow, if the discovery be left to them. The 
experience which we shall thus have gained of the diffi- 
culty of detecting and reforming our errors will surely 
teach us the folly of being too ready to sneer at others' 
follies, and frown at others' faults, lest, like the king of 
Israel, we be found to pronounce our own condemnation. 
Even selfish considerations, therefore, will make us 
tardy and lenient in bestowing our censure upon the 
errors of our brethren. And though we may imagine 
that we have become thoroughly acquainted with our own 
characters and dispositions, others may see peculiarities 
in us which escape our notice. In the faults and follies 
of our neighbors, let us therefore see so many warnings 
to ourselves ; and happy would it be for the world, if this 
were more often the use to which we applied our know- 
ledge of other men's guilt and folly ; happy would it be 
if, when we observed the failings of others, we veiled 
them as much as possible from public view, pitied and 
forbore to think too harshly, and asked ourselves, as we 
contemplated each instance of frail humanity, " Do I 
resemble it, or is my conduct irreproachable ? " 

III. We may learn to imitate the courage and in- 
genuousness of David in acknowledging his guilt. 

When Nathan the prophet charged the King of Isra- 
el with the crime of which he had been guilty, it was 
under circumstances calculated to aggravate the morti- 
fication, and almost to arouse the anger, of the king. He 



113 

first described to his unsuspecting hearer an act of cruel 
oppression not unlike that of which he had been guilty, 
and having obtained just such an opinion of the case as 
might naturally be expected from that discerning and 
warm-hearted monarch, having compelled him thus un- 
consciously to pronounce himself guilty, he showed him 
that the guilt which had been parabolically represented, 
was really his own. We should hardly have wondered, 
if David, thus taken advantage of, as he may be said to 
have been, should have disowned the resemblance, and 
protested against so unceremonious a charge; but though 
the king, ignorant of himself, saw not at first the bear- 
ing of the prophet's story, no sooner was he convinced 
of the propriety and justice of the accusation, than he 
frankly acknowledged the resemblance, and declared 
himself a guilty man. The wrongs of Uriah, and his 
own selfish cruelty, severely upbraided his conscience, 
and, " I have sinned against the Lord," was the ready 
and penitential confession of his heart. 

There are those, who, though they clearly see the 
guilt and folly of their conduct, obstinately refuse to 
own it. This is a fault too common among young 
people, and originates in a feeling of false pride, which 
forbids them to acknowledge their unworthiness, and 
makes them shrink from degrading themselves in the 
estimation of others. But when the fault is clearly seen 
to be such, it is surely much more manly and ingenu- 
ous to avow it at once, and express contrition and regret, 
than to prolong discussion, and provoke hostility, by 
obstinately persisting in a course which our judgment 
pronounces to be at once foolish and false. There is a • 
secret satisfaction in acknowledging ourselves in the 
15 



114 

wrong, when we really are so, which is ill exchanged 
for that pertinacity and pride, which disdain to own an 
error, and that self-upbraiding, which is increased by 
our refusing to admit our culpability. There is some- 
thing generous, andeven magnanimous, in such conduct: 
it almost palliates the fault we confess, and does not 
fail to avert the anger, if not to win the affections, of 
those whom we may have injured. 

But not to pursue this subject any further, let me, in 
conclusion, urge the importance of keeping so enlight- 
ened and faithful a conscience, that, if it cannot guard 
us altogether from error, it may vigilantly detect and 
expose our faults, that when we fall into any sin, and 
when we read or hear of others who have committed 
like sin, it may cry with a voice too loud to be unheard, 
too eloquent and solemn to be unheeded, " Thou art 
the man ! " In all that we hear, or read, or see of sin, 
and guilt, and folly, whether in private and domestic 
scenes, and records in the histories of our friends, in the 
actions of our neighbors, in the histories of nations, and 
the world at large, let our first concern be, not to con- 
demn, censure and upbraid, not to join in the clamor, 
and vulgar cry, which fail not to follow those, to whom 
the suspicion of evil attaches, but dive into the recesses 
of our own bosoms, and make them clear. Let us pa- 
tiently and unremittingly examine the springs of our 
actions, the tendencies of our habits, both of thinking 
and acting. Above all, let us urge upon ourselves the 
importance of pursuing this wise and happy course, from 
the consideration that we must stand before the judg- 
ment-bar of Christ. No concealment of sin can there 
take place. Each hidden motive, and each secret 



115 

thought will then be made manifest, and unless we learn 
here to act the part both of accuser and of judge to- 
wards ourselves, unless the friendly voice of conscience 
is suffered to be heard, a voice more awful and then 
more terrible, shall say, " Thou art the man ! " and de- 
clare our final condemnation. From which dreadful 
portion may we all be saved. Amen. 



PRAYER. 

O God of the spirits of all flesh ; Thou art a God of 
knowledge, and by Thee actions are weighed. Deeply 
conscious of our ignorance and frailty, we look up unto 
Thee, beseeching Thee in mercy to regard us, to help 
our infirmities, and to pardon all our sins. Assist us in 
acquiring that knowledge of ourselves, by which, under 
thy blessing, we may be preserved from secret faults as 
well as from presumptuous errors. May neither inat- 
tention, nor indolence, nor self-sufficiency, make us 
blind to our sins and imperfections ; and when we think 
we stand, may we take heed lest we fall. May we 
carefully observe the workings of our own minds, may 
we rigidly examine the springs and tendencies of our 
actions, and may we habitually commune with our own 
spirits, and with Thee, the great Searcher of hearts. 

Sensible of our frailty and liability to error, may we 
be lenient towards the frailties of our fellow-men. Save 
us from all uncharitable judgments, from all unkind 
suspicions, from all unjust censures. Remembering that 
we all need mercy at thy hands, may we show mercy 



116 

and forbearance to our erring brethren. Teach us to 
imitate thy perfect and universal love, and to imbibe 
the spirit of that compassionate Saviour, who gave him- 
self for us, the just for the unjust. 

Keeping ever in view that awful day, when we 
must render up our account before the judgment-seat of 
Christ, may we all be diligent in the discharge of our 
duty, and faithful to ourselves, to our brethren, and to 
Thee our Maker. Search us, O God, and know our 
hearts ; try us, and know our thoughts ; and see if 
there be any wicked way in us, and lead us in the way 
everlasting. Amen. 



SERMON VII. 



THE RELI GIOJY OF PRINCIPLE, AND THE RE- 
LIGION OF THE AFFECTIONS. 



Matt. vii. 21. 



NOT EVERT ONE THAT SAITH UNTO ME, LORD, LORD, SHALL ENTER IN- 
TO THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN; BUT HE THAT DOETH THE 
WILL OF MY FATHER WHO IS IN HEAVEN." 



In surveying the characters of men, we discern two 
classes, into which they may be easily divided ; the 
first, of those who adopt a fixt rule of living, to which 
they resolutely adhere, independently of their feelings ; 
the second, of those who obey their feelings, and go ac- 
cording to their inclinations, without a fixt rule. The 
former live by their deliberate judgment ; the latter by 
their predominant affections. 

Both classes may be equally virtuous. For the first 
may. mark out to themselves by rule the straight path of 
duty ; and the feelings of the second may be in strict 
coincidence with duty. A man of the first-named cha- 
racter, is faithful to his wife, kind to his children, chari- 
table to the poor, upright in all his transactions, because 
he is convinced that it is his duty. He does it from 



118 

principle. The other, because his feelings prompt him 
to it, and he would do it whether it were his duty or 
not. 

This difference of character is oftentimes dependent 
on natural constitution. Some men are of cool, 
phlegmatic tempers, and sluggish affections. They are 
not easily excited on any subject. They quietly plod 
on their customary way, neither vexed nor delighted 
by what they meet, nor turned from it by any entice- 
ment. Others are of an ardent, excitable temperament. 
Their blood stirs quick to the invitation of pleasure, and 
their affections are the prompters of their conduct. 
They do everything from love, or hate, or generous 
emotion, or fervent ambition ; not from a sense of duty, 
duty is a chilling word to them, but from impulse. 

Religion accommodates itself to these diversities of 
human nature, and offers itself to man's acceptance both 
as a matter of the judgment and of the feelings, of 
principle and of affection, of duty and of impulse. And 
not only so, but it endeavors to unite these in every 
character, so that the stern integrity of duty may not be 
unlovely from being alone, but may be rendered charm- 
ing by the company of the affections ; and so that, on 
the other hand, the affections alone may not bear sway 
in the ardent man, but may have the concurrence and 
help of a sound judgment, and the steadiness and 
strength of the principle of duty. 

I would speak, therefore, at the present time, of the 
Religious Principle, and the Religious Affections. I 
would show wherein they are distinguished, how far they 
may exist alone, how they may be combined, and in 
what mode and to what extent they are capable of cul- 



tivation. These are topics in which all are concerned , 
for all have reason and all have passions, mixed toge- 
ther in great variety of natural combination, and requir- 
ing to be controlled and directed. Some of us need to 
inquire whether it be right to remain satisfied with only 
a formal judgment on the side of religion ; some of us 
need to ascertain whether our earnestness of feeling 
should not be tempered with a little more steadfastness 
of principle ; and all of us should be glad to attain, if 
we can, that happy union of principle and of fervour? 
which constitutes the perfection of a moral character. 

Let us, first of all, define these terms, and consider 
wherein they are distinguished. 

By Religious Principle, we understand the subjection 
of the mind to the authority of God and the fixed rule of 
right. He is a man of religious principle, who acts 
from a settled regard to the right of God over him, and 
a resolute purpose to keep his commandments. You 
may rely upon his always doing right, because he ad- 
heres to the unchangeable rule of the divine law. 

By the Religious Affections, we understand the en- 
gagement of the feelings upon God and religious sub- 
jects, so that a man is deeply and sensibly affected by 
them. His thought of God is attended with emotion. 
His heart beats more briskly and tears start into his 
eyes, as he reflects on his greatness and love, and ap- 
plies to himself his messages and promises. He does 
not merely believe — he has joy and peace in believing. 
He does not merely obey — he finds pleasure in obeying. 
And in the various exercises of a devout and contem- 
plative mind, he is sometimes lifted to rapture, and 
sometimes soothed to a happy and quiet serenity. 



120 

We easily understand, then, the difference between 
these two religious characteristics of man. And it is 
evident, from this description of them, that each may 
exist independently of the other. The religious princi- 
ple may be strong and commanding in a man who ex- 
periences no emotion on the subjects of his faith. He 
may serve God and keep his commandments, and yet 
never have his feelings greatly engaged. Just as one 
may be a good citizen, and obey the laws of the land, 
without a particle of affection for the law-givers, or of 
interest in the questions of government. We cannot 
doubt that there are such amongst sincere and ex- 
emplary Christians. They have been denied, by con- 
stitutional deficiency, all considerable warmth of affec- 
tion ; but they possess a most resolute and devoted pur- 
pose, and can cling with a martyr's firmness to what 
they think to be right. God is the object of their su- 
preme reverence, adoration, trust, and obedience. They 
cannot rise to the raptures of ecstasy, — they are not 
overwhelmed with floods of emotion ; but they can, 
and they do, submit to his will, honour his government, 
and perform his commandments. Nothing can shake 
their allegiance, or cause their conviction of his truth to 
faulter. And although they burn with none of the fires 
of zeal, the sense of duty — steadfast, immovable, uu- 
faultering — conducts them to the same result ; and we 
cannot doubt that it also leads them to God's ac- 
ceptance. 

On the other hand, it is equally plain, that the reli- 
gious affections may exist alone, without the religious 
principle. A man may have strong feelings, easily ex- 
cited, readily raised to [transport, of gushing in tears, 



121 

and yet possess no settled sense of duty — no established 
purpose of right. There are those whose nerves are 
lightly strung, and which respond, like some stringed 
instrument, to every changing breath that stirs them. 
A little joy elates them, — a little grief depresses them; 
every thing new throws them into a transport of sur- 
prise, and, with a kind of amiable enthusiasm, they are 
in rapture and despair a hundred times a day. Let a 
person of this excitable temperament become interested 
in religion ; it will excite him strongly, vehemently, 
perhaps terribly. Its wonders and beauties, its affect- 
ing histories, its elevating doctrines, its gracious pro- 
mises, its alarming threats, — he must contemplate them 
with emotions unutterable. The awful features of the 
divine character, and the terrors of the Lord, will shake 
him with dread. The amiable attribute of his mercy, 
and the kind revelations of his grace, will dissolve him 
in gratitude and love. He will adore, and tremble, 
and rejoice, and fear, and upon every topic of his reli- 
gion exercise an intensity of feeling, to which the 
greater calmness of others may seem comparative in- 
difference. And yet, meantime, he may not have firm- 
ness enough to obey God's commandments, and refrain 
from sin. He may have very loose notions of actual 
duty — very feeble adherence to practical principle. His 
religion may lie exclusively in his feelings ; and the 
temptations of the world may have such power over 
those feelings, as sometimes to enlist them in the en- 
gagements of unlawful pleasure. Like those mentioned 
by our Saviour in the text, he may cry, " Lord, Lord," 
with fervent enthusiasm, and wonder that others do not 
the same, and yet not do the will of his Father in 
16 



122 

heaven. This may be thought by some an impossible 
case. They cannot believe that one may really love 
God, and yet disobey him, — possess religious affections, 
and yet transgress religious duty. And where they find 
such appearances, they lay them to the charge of delib- 
erate insincerity and hypocrisy. But I do not see why 
they should not be thought compatible with thorough 
sincerity. The difficulty is not that these persons do 
not exercise their affections, but that they are not es- 
tablished in principle ; so that although they truly adore 
and love, they have yet taken no pains to regulate 
their lives by this adoration and love. We have known 
children of strong feelings, who gave unquestionable 
demonstration of attachment to their parents, and we 
could not doubt that they loved them ardently. Yet 
they pursued courses which displeased and distressed 
their parents. Not because they were destitute of fil- 
ial affection, but because they wanted principle ; they 
had no established sense of duty. So it may be in re- 
ligion. The son may say to the father, in the warmth 
of his heart, " I go, Sir," and yet not go. The Chris- 
tian may " hold the truth in unrighteousness." He 
may cry, " Lord, Lord," and yet not do his Lord's will. 
Let us be aware, then, of the injudiciousness and 
danger of laying too great stress on the religious excite- 
ment of the affections ; since, however important and 
delightful in themselves, their exclusive cultivation may 
lead to a neglect of that more sober principle, which is 
essential to our regulation and safety. Their anima- 
ting zeal, their glowing fervor, their ardor, activity and 
eagerness to press forward, are necessary to the highest 
christian enjoyment, and essential to the loftiest chris- 



123 

tian attainment. They are the sails which are to be 
spread to the winds of heaven, and to catch the whis- 
pering breath of God, and to bear the voyager briskly 
and triumphantly over the swelling seas of life ; and 
without them, his progress would be toilsome and joy- 
less. But what will you do if you have not principle at 
the helm, to keep the ship steady upon the waters, and 
guide her to her destination ? Who does not see that 
he may make disastrous shipwreck of faith, and a good 
conscience, who suffers himself to be blown about by 
his feelings, uncontrolled by the sense of duty ? 

There are some persons peculiarly exposed to danger 
from this quarter, and this renders particularly critical 
seasons of great religious excitement. By anxiety and 
sympathy, their feelings are strongly wrought upon, 
their passions violently agitated, their minds thrown in- 
to a tempestuous working of alarm and hope, despair 
and ecstasy. In this religious tumult of the soul, they 
are entirely absorbed, and ordinary things have lost 
their power to affect them. But these violent feelings, 
from their very narure, are liable to subside. This ef- 
fervescence passes away; and, if the sense of duty have 
not been faithfully cultivated, all religion may pass away 
with it. Hence, the great danger of enlisting the pas- 
sions without engaging the understanding. And there- 
fore, it is more safe, and affords better ground for en- 
couragement, that the religious character be formed 
more gradually and less by impulse ; that the foundation 
be laid deep in thoughtfulness and knowledge, and the 
affections subjected to the rule and discipline of the un- 
derstanding. Otherwise, they swell out into fanaticism, 
and turn the beautiful, orderly, beneficent dominion of 



124 

religion, into' anarchy and misrule. The charities of 
life, which the sweet spirit of our Master designed 10 
cherish, wither beneath their desolating violence. Rea- 
son is prostrated before their turbulent excesses ; and 
" the words of truth and soberness" are perverted into 
wild, raving and unmeaning mysticism. If, upon any 
subject, the passions are let loose without restraint, the 
consequences must be melancholy and harmful. If let 
loose without restraint in religion, the consequences 
must be the most harmful and melancholy in proportion, 
as religion is a concern, above all others, important and 
affecting. In proof of which, we need only to call to 
mind the excesses of fanaticism, which have at various 
periods disgraced the church, and disgusted reflecting 
men, and retarded the progress of truth. They are all 
to be traced to the single source of violently enlisting 
the passions, without securing the sway of principle. 
Let us be warned by these examples ; and never 
forget, that an Apostle has described our religion, 
as " the spirit of power, and of love, and of a sound 
mind." 

We thus see, that both the religious affections and 
the religious principle, may exist separately, but that it 
never ought to be permitted; that the truest safety and 
happiness are to be found only in uniting them togeth- 
er, and in giving to each an equal share of cultivation. 
We proceed to remark, in the next place, that both are 
capable of cultivation; and this because they are found- 
ed in human nature, and are consequently not supernat- 
ural, either in their origin or their growth. 

The religious principle, for instance, is founded in 
the natural sense of right- and wrong, which makes part 



125 

of the human constitution, and is called in scripture 
"the law of God written on the heart." It is capable, 
therefore, of direction, cultivation and improvement. 
By watchfulness and pains a man may render it more 
powerful, more sensitive, and more operative. He may 
increase his sensibility to the divine authority, and his 
anxiety to do God's will. As in the transactions of 
the world he may be growing more scrupulously honest, 
and bye and bye have a nice punctuality in his engage- 
ments, which he once did not esteem essential ; so in 
his religious concerns, he may come to feel more in- 
tensely the obligations of duty, and more strictly adhere 
to it in action. This is to be done by cherishing the 
thought of God, by frequently meditating on his pres- 
ence, by comparing ourselves continually with the re- 
quisitions of his law, and correcting the account of eve- 
ry day by that unerring standard. If this be done, he 
that once did not shrink from deeds of equivocal propri- 
ety, and contrived to gloss over his habitual indulgence 
in minor sins, will come to have an abhorrence of them, 
like that which he feels for a heinous crime, and will 
detect moral obliquity and unjustifiable swerving from 
right, where he once thought all fair. A man of not 
very strict principle, may have such a horror of highway 
robbery and murder, as may render it impossible that 
he should be guilty of them. By proper care and pains, 
he may extend that feeling to much smaller offences, 
to all offences ; and come at last to shun, with the same 
instinctive horror, lying, slander, and sloth. It is only 
for want of duly cultivating and applying the sense of 
duty, the religious principle of right, that we so incon- 
sistently avoid great crimes, and yet indulge, without 



126 

compunction, habits of wrong, as truly sinful, though of 
less magnitude. 

A similar course of remark may be pursued respect- 
ing the religious affections. These likewise are found- 
ed in nature, and susceptible of cultivation. They are 
not new faculties, implanted by religion ; they have al- 
ways existed in the soul. Love, fear, hope, gratitude, 
joy, peace, are all natural affections. When they are 
directed to God, and engaged upon religious objects, 
then they become religious affections. We have the 
power of thus directing and engaging them ; and when 
we do so, we cultivate the religious affections. When 
a thoughtless and irreligious man becomes interested in 
the concerns of duty and eternity, it is not that the new 
affections, strictly speaking, are introduced to his soul, 
or new powers implanted in his constitution ; but that 
they take a new direction, and are engaged upon new 
objects : which, indeed, is in some cases so great a 
change, that the very heart seems to be new, and has 
well been called so. Since nothing can well be more 
different, than the feelings of a man devoted to sense 
and sin, and of the same man devoted to heaven and 
goodness: — than the love of sensual pleasure, dishonest 
dealing, brutish enjoyments, malicious pursuits, on the 
one hand — and the love of God, of purity, of benevolent 
action, and spiritual contemplation, on the other. Yet 
it is the same soul which is capable of each. It is only 
the different application of its powers. 

The religious affections, then, are not supernatural, 
and no man may excuse himself for not possessing 
them, by the plea, that he must wait till Gcd has im- 
planted them, by his sovereign power. The same mind 



127 

which has been intimate with the earthly parent, and 
experienced his care and felt his tenderness, and there- 
fore loves him ; will in like manner love the heavenly 
parent, when it has become equally observant of his care 
and equally interested by his tenderness. The same 
heart which beats with gratitude to an earthly benefac- 
tor, which is roused to admiration at the perception of 
uncommon human excellence, which dwells with delight 
on the beautiful works of nature, and the astonishing 
creations of art, needs but as carefully attend to, and as 
fully perceive, the kindness of a heavenly Benefactor, 
and the infinite excellence of God, and the surpassing 
beauty aud grandeur of spiritual and eternal truth, to 
have the same emotions called forth, and the soul 
equally enraptured. It is because we shut our eyes and 
refuse to see, because we close our hearts and will not 
attend, that we are so indifferent and cold. 

Are we asked, then, in what way the religious af- 
fections are to be cultivated and improved ? We an- 
swer, by faithful attention to the subjects of religion, 
by vigorously and perseveringly devoting our minds to 
these great interests, and withdrawing them from all 
counteracting influences. Let us be familiarly ac- 
quainted with them, and allow them to have their nat- 
ural operation upon us, and we cannot fail to become 
attached to them. As we cannot hear a fine piece of 
music, nor see a fine picture or beautiful prospect, with- 
out taking pleasure ; as we cannot be intimate with] a' 
person of distinguished loveliness and virtue, without 
becoming attached ; so we cannot grow familiar with 
the beauty, loveliness, glory of divine truth and hope, 
without our feelings being interested and our affections 



128 

engaged. For all, therefore, who desire the promotion 
and progress of the religious affections, the path is plain 
and open. The taste will come, if they perseveringly 
seek it : not indeed with equal measures of enjoyment to 
all, for all are not constituted alike ; but to each accord- 
ing to his capacity and constitution. Let them devotedly 
muse, and the fire will burn. Let them habitually pray, 
and the peace of God will fill their hearts. 

In conclusion ; — let us see the sum of the whole 
matter, and attend to its practical suggestions. We 
learn that the religious character is constituted both of 
principle and affections, and that both must be culti- 
vated by him who would do the duties and partake the 
happiness of a religious life. It is in the power of every 
man to make religious principle his supreme and all- 
controlling guide. But the degree in which the affec- 
tions shall exist, must depend mainly on the natural 
constitution- — some men being capable of a fervor to 
which others are necessarily strangers. But every man 
is capable of devoting to religion all the feeling which 
he possesses, and nothing can excuse him from doing it. 
His heart may be susceptible of less ardent emotion 
than another's; but he must still love God with all his 
heart. 

For this reason, we are to be cautious, in judging 
of others, how we condemn them for any apparent want 
of religious fervor. We should rather look to the testi- 
mony of their lives, we regard the principle by which 
they are governed. If they prove themselves to be 
men of principle, we are not to condemn them because 
they are not also men of ardent feeling. They have 
the main thing, and would probably have the other if 
natural temperament did not forbid. 



129 

But in judging of ourselves, we should closely scru- 
tinize the condition of our affections, and never be satis- 
fied, until they are as warmly engaged, as we know 
them to be capable of being : of what they are capable, 
we may judge by observation. If we are very earnest 
in the things of the world, greatly animated about our 
business, highly excited by politics, and on all our fa- 
vourite topics feel ardently, and exert ourselves stren- 
uously ; then we cannot explain our religious coolness 
on the ground of constitutional temperament. The 
warmth is within us, and might be applied to religion. 
There is fire in our souls, and it might be made to burn 
on God's altar. It is our disgrace and condemnation, if 
the interests and pleasures of this perishing body and 
fleeting world, can call forth our anxiety, our joy, our 
enthusiasm, and yet the infinite interests of religion and 
heaven, leave us in cold and unmoved apathy. 

On the other hand, if one is inclined to be unhappy, 
because of the coolness with which he contemplates 
those concerns which he knows to be of unspeakable 
moment; if he is distressed, because he experiences so 
little glow and thrill of emotion, and fears that his calm- 
ness may be a criminal lukewarmness ; then let, him 
examine the state of his feelings in regard to other mat- 
ters of great interest — business, pleasure, politics ; — 
and if he finds that on these subjects also, he is of an 
easy careless temper, and never roused to enthusiasm, 
where most sincerely engaged ; then he may regard it 
as a constitutional failing, and comfort himself in the 
conviction, that there is no warmth and strength of af- 
fection within him, beyond that which he has devoted 

to the service of his God. 
17 



130 

But let us be on our guard against all self-deception 
on this point. The religious character is one great 
whole ; to form which, the reason and the heart, the 
judgment and the affections unite to contribute. Let 
them all alike have place. Let no partial deyotion 
satisfy us. Let no imperfect standard be our's. Let not 
our fondness for action, nor our readiness of language, 
nor our fervour of feeling — no, not though our eyes were 
fountains of tears, and men were astonished at our 
zeal — let not these content us, except we find that 
we are also governed by a deep laid and habitual prin- 
ciple of religious duty, except all be exercised and con- 
trolled by a sound judgment. " The heart is deceitful 
above all things ;" and we must not trust its testimony, 
unless we have also the testimony of our characters. 

And on the other hand, let us be persuaded, that 
we are far from the best state, if we are satisfied to give 
our reason to religion, but refuse to engage in it our 
feelings. There is a good deal of pride, and not a little 
affectation in this matter. Men are unwilling to have 
it known, they are ashamed to have it suspected, that 
they feel any thing on this subject; and therefore, they 
hide their emotions, and do their best to stifle and 
quench them. Nothing can be more unwise. Let us 
be above this false shame. Let us believe it manly, let 
us regard it as honorable, let us think it a subject of 
glorying rather than of shame, to be touched and affect- 
ed by the greatest and most affecting truths in the uni- 
verse. " Ifreligion is not tointerest our feelings," touse 
the words of another, "what subject shall? what 
subject can ? Revealing to us a God infinitely worthy 
of our highest affections, a Saviour, whose whole life 



131 

was a continued series of most affecting incidents, from 
the manger to the cross, touching us in the most im- 
portant of interests, the interests of the immortal soul, 
and connected in our thoughts with all that is bright, 
and pure, and animating, with all that is deep, and 
grand, and awful ;" on what subject shall we feel if not 
on this, and of what feelings shall we not be ashamed, 
if we may be ashamed of these ? Ashamed of them ? 
No : or we may soon find it unmanly to indulge affec- 
tion for our parents, and dishonorable to evince grati- 
tude for benefactors. Ashamed of them ? No : never 
asahmed of theGospel of Christ ; " for it is the power 
of God unto salvation to every one that believeth." 
No : there is reason in man, and the inspiration of the 
Almighty has given him understanding ; and reason 
and understanding must be perverted indeed, if they 
allow him to turn away from God and truth the best 
feelings of his soul. They will rather unite fully and 
joyfully with those feelings. The religion of Christ is 
a spirit of love and of a sound mind. A thoughtful 
man will cultivate both, and be convinced that the 
purest service of the affections is the most reasonable 
service. 



PRAYER. 

Gracious and merciful Father, who knowest our 
frame, and rememberest that we are but dust; we hum- 
ble ourselves in thy sight at the thought of our many 
frailties, yet encourage the hope, that Thou, the Fath- 



132 

er of Him who never broke the bruised reed, wilt ac- 
cept the sincerity, whilst Thou pardonest the imperfec- 
tions, of our services. It is our earnest desire, O Fath- 
er, to devote all our powers to Thee, and so to cultivate and 
harmonize them all, that they may fulfil thy divine pur- 
poses respecting them, and conduce to our highest hap- 
piness. Look favorably, we implore Thee, on our hum- 
ble yet fervent wishes. O give them effect by the aid 
of thy holy spirit. Lead us effectually to fix our mind 
and our heart on Thee. Wherein we are weak, do 
Thou give us strength. Wherein we are sluggish and 
inert, do Thou arouse and warm. Enlighten our minds, 
kindle our affections, direct and regulate all our facul- 
ties, that, after the example of our revered Master, we 
may be wholly thine. Suffer us not to be led astray by 
passion, nor to be lifeless and unproductive through 
spiritual apathy ; but let us be guided by Christian prin- 
ciple, and inspired by devout affections ; and in mercy 
blend, we entreat of Thee, both together in the breast 
of us each. 

Vouchsafe to accept our humble and heartfelt acknowl- 
edgments of the numberless mercies with which Thou 
hast crowned our lives. Continue still to be gracious; 
and finally place us at thy right hand, where are plea- 
sures for evermore. To Thee the only God, through 
Jesus our only Mediator and Lord, be universal and 
endless praise. Amen. 



SERMON VIII. 



THE FRAILTY OF HUMAJVJYATURE 



Job xiv. 2. 

"HE COMETH FORTH LIKE A FLOWER, AND IS CUT DOWN." 

There is no class of images, perhaps, by which mor- 
al reflections can be so well illustrated, as that which is 
derived from natural objects and scenery. The force 
of such illustrations, though more or less deeply accord- 
ing to circumstances, must be felt by alL By the fre- 
quent recurrence of these scenes and objects to ourselves, 
our conceptions of them are constantly kept fresh and 
vivid. The illustrations derived from them, seem to 
partake of these qualities. We hardly ever tire of them. 
We can read them over and over again in the works of 
the poet or the moralist, and not unfrequently with in- 
creased pleasure. Poet after poet presents us with the 
same thoughts and images, slightly varied perhaps in 
the dress or attituda ; and still they please because they 
still breathe of nature. Their magic influence still sum- 
mons round us scenes of bliss and images of beauty, or 
gently overspreads the mind with that peaceful and not 
unpleasing melancholy, which attends upon the recol- 



134 

lection of their departure. Many illustrations of the 
kind now referred to, are derived from the vegetable 
kingdom ; and there are few, which excite a greater 
degree of interest than these, or make a deeper impres- 
sion upon the mind. To the vegetable productions 
that adorn its surface, the earth which we inhabit is 
indebted for much of its beauty. Our senses are de- 
lighted by the annual renewal of its verdure. The 
flowery tribes more especially, by the delicacy of their 
texture, and the wonderful variety of their forms, co- 
lours, and habits, as well as by the fragrance which 
they exhale, attract our notice and minister to our 
gratification. It is scarcely possible for a reflecting 
person to follow these beautiful objects through the se- 
veral stages of their brief existence, without being re- 
minded of the vicissitudes of human life. They are 
impressive though silent monitors. Their being is an 
allegory of our own. They spring into life, — they 
bloom, — they fade,— they die. They have scarcely 
time to arrive at their full vigor and perfection, be- 
fore their existence is terminated. Surely, my friends, 
the resemblance between their circumstances and ours, 
is such as no reflecting mind can overlook. Though 
obvious, however, it is on no account the less in- 
teresting. Frequently as it may. have been suggested, 
it is a resemblance which can scarcely be thought of 
without emotion. So plaintive and powerful is the ap- 
peal which it makes to the feelings through the imagi- 
nation, that a more impressive and affecting representa- 
tion of the brevity and frailty of human life has pro- 
bably never been given, than that of Job, in the words 
of the text, " He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut 
down." 



135 

Let us reflect a little on the description of the state 
of man here given by the sacred writer, with a view of 
ascertaining how far it is correct, and universally appli- 
cable ; and, if so, of impressing our minds more deeply 
with its truth, so that it may exert a suitable influence 
upon our conduct. 

And, first, it may be observed, that even when the 
life of man has been prolonged to its utmost limit, the 
similitude, contained in the text, may be employed with 
perfect propriety. Into what narrow dimensions does 
the most protracted period of human existence shrink 
when compared w r ith eternity ! To those who have 
already become partakers of an immortal being, and 
look forward with delight to ages of happiness and im- 
provement, how brief and insignificant in comparison 
must the life of man appear ! Surely to them, were 
they permitted to contemplate the birth, existence, and 
death of the children of mortality, the similitude em- 
ployed in the text must appear most expressive and ap- 
propriate. We shall perceive the propriety of this beau- 
tiful image still more clearly, if we further consider the 
length of human life in connexion with our intellectual 
nature and consequent capacities of improvement. Is 
not a large proportion of the life of man over, before his 
understanding can be regarded as having reached its 
full maturity ? How brief the period of his existence 
when viewed in connexion with the boundless realms of 
knowledge which he longs to traverse, or the plans of 
improvement, stretching far into futurity, which he is 
capable of originating ! What proportion does the span 
of time, which has been allotted to him in this world, 
bear to his wishes, his hopes, his purposes ? Even the 



136 

flower, short-lived as it is, has time enough fully to un- 
fold its leaves, and to expand its blossom ; to spread 
its beauties before the sun, and give its fragrance to 
the breeze, and to shine forth in the full lustre of its 
loveliness, reaching the highest degree of perfection for 
which nature qualifies, and the Creator seems to have 
designed it; but man, rational and accountable man, 
the image of his Maker, the lord of the terrestrial crea- 
tion, with capacities of improvement that may be pro- 
nounced unlimited, and with hopes and desires full of 
immortality, finds himself, for the most part, confined 
within the narrow limits of three score years and ten ; 
becomes sensible to the gradual decay of his mental fa- 
culties, at a time when he has learned to value them 
the most highly, and is the most desirous of devoting 
himself to the exercise of them; and sinks into the 
grave with plans unaccomplished, hopes disappointed, 
desires ungratified, and intellectual energies, frequently 
of a very high order, to all appearance wasted. Can we 
pursue this train of thought, my brethren, without per- 
ceiving that it may be said of man, with the utmost pro- 
priety, even when the term of his existence is the long- 
est, that "he cometh forth like a flower, and is cut 
down ? " 

Further, this description may be applied with equal, 
perhaps with still greater, propriety, to those whose lot 
it is to be summoned from this world whilst yet in the 
prime of life, and in the full vigor of their mental fa- 
culties. We are strongly reminded by it in such cases, 
not merely of the brevity of human life, but, likewise, 
of the frailty of the tenure by which it is secured to its 
possessor. Consider, for a moment, the accidents to 



137 

which man is liable, together with the number and va- 
riety of the diseases that are constantly lying in wait 
for him, and say whether the tender flower, resting upon 
its frail stalk, which the first keen blast may over- 
whelm, or the first careless foot trample, be not an em- 
blem of his condition as appropriate as it is beautiful. 
There are times, indeed, when, elated by the long con- 
tinued enjoyment of health and happiness, we become 
forgetful of our weakness, and suffer ourselves to dream 
that we are already immortal. But self-deception such 
as this, can scarcely be of long continuance. Pain or 
sickness of some kind is almost sure to visit us soon, and 
restore us to our senses. Even where we do not expe- 
rience them ourselves, we can hardly close our eyes 
against the unequivocal testimonies to the frailty of our 
common nature, given to us by the diseases and suffer- 
ings, and too frequently by the untimely deaths of many 
of our fellow-creatures. It is scarcely possible for us to 
pass any length of time, without having our attention 
forcibly attracted to this awful subject. Some sudden 
accident occurs, by which the lives of multitudes are sa- 
crificed. The monster war arises in his wrath, and im- 
molates in a day ten thousand victims. A fatal disor- 
der is seen to commence its ravages, and to thin, with 
an appalling haste, the ranks of society. An untimely 
grave is opened for some neighbor, friend, or relative. 
The attention of society is arrested by the sudden fate 
of one, whose talents or situation had made him an ob- 
ject of general interest. We behold the conqueror, 
whose bloody occupation had been too long plied suc- 
cessfully, compelled at length to obey the mandate of one 
mightier than he, and add himself to the number of his 
18 



138 

victims, The grave is seen to open for the statesman, 
just as he has attained to the height of his power and 
popularity. The philosopher is cut off in the midst of 
his discoveries. The man of genius falls when he had 
scarcely reached the meridian of his fame. Living as 
we do, my brethren, in the midst of such events, seeing 
the frailty of our nature so frequently and awfully illus- 
trated, must we not be struck, in the most forcible man- 
ner, with the propriety of the representation contained 
in the text ? Must we not perceive and acknowledge, 
that man, in all the vigor of health, and splendor of i 
talents, and dignity of station, still resembles the tender 
flower in frailty, and, like it, is liable, at any moment, 
to be cut down ? 

Perhaps, however, if there be one class of human 
beings to whom the description, contained in the text, 
applies with peculiar propriety, and the consideration of 
whose circumstances brings the justice of it home most 
effectually to the heart, it is that of those whom the will 
of Providence consigns to an early grave ; and who are 
cut off before their powers, either of mind or body, have 
reached their full maturity. There are several particu- 
lars connected with such young persons, which make us 
feel that the words of the text apply to their case with 
peculiar emphasis. Independently of the frailty and 
brevity of existence, common to them with the whole 
human race, there are circumstances in the condition of 
the young, which lead us naturally, we might almost 
say instinctively, to compare them with the vegetable 
productions of nature. Tender and helpless as man is 
at all times, he is peculiarly so in early life. He is so 
then not merely in himself, but as compared with the 



139 

generality of his species. His helplessness, at this pe- 
riod, is not a quality which it requires some reflection 
to discover, or which is to be deduced from a compari- 
son of his power with that of other beings, or which, 
from being common to him with his race, is not unlike- 
ly to be overlooked, especially by one who shares in it ; 
but it is one which is visible in his outward form, dis- 
plays itself in every motion, and causes him to become 
an object of additional interest, from the assistance 
which it requires. The tenderness of the flower, there- 
fore, which makes it a suitable representation of human 
life in genera], must cause it to be still more beautifully 
emblematic of childhood. Another circumstance con- 
nected with the young, which makes this term peculi- 
arly descriptive of them, is the gradual advancement 
which is taking place both in their bodily and mental 
powers. It is true that no man can be supposed, whilst 
on earth, to have arrived at the perfection of his rational 
nature : there must always be ample room for improve- 
ment in this respect, and the desire and pursuit of 
it should terminate but with life. Still, mental im- 
provement in the case of the young, if it be not dif- 
ferent in kind, is, at least, much more perceptible ; and 
strikes us the more from being accompanied by a corres- 
ponding growth, and extension of bodily power. So 
prominent are the points of resemblance which have 
been referred to, that we can scarcely conceive it possi- 
ble for them to be overlooked. What parent can look 
round upon a growing family, without regarding his 
children as so many tender plants committed to his care, 
which it is his duty and delight to watch over and to 
nourish, until they shall have attained to the full per- 



140 

fection of their vigour and beauty ? How naturally 
and easily does the mind pass from the healthful child 
to the flourishing plant, from the dying youth to the 
fading flower ! And ah, my friends, when, in obedience 
to this natural association, we turn our attention more 
particularly to the younger part of mankind, how sadly 
do we find daily experience verifying the assertion con- 
tained in the text ! How extensive the ravages of death, 
amongst those, who are far from having arrived at ma- 
turity ! How many are scarcely permitted to enter upon 
life before they are deprived of it ! What multitudes fall 
victims to the countless perils, that encompass infancy ! 
How often do we find disease or accident substituting 
for the heedless gaiety of boyhood an untimely grave ! 
And oh, when a mournful event of this description has 
taken place, when a death violent and sudden has 
snatched from a parent's arms some beloved object of 
his affection, how deeply and painfully must he feel, 
and how deeply must all feel, whose hearts are 
alive to the claims of sympathy, the propriety and truth 
of the sacred writer's representation, " he cometh forth 
like a flower, and is cut down." 

There is another view, which we may take of the 
human race, with reference to the description here given 
of them, that may serve, perhaps, in some degree, to 
deepen the impressions, which it is calculated to make 
upon the mind. We may not only, by combining the 
views already taken of particular classes of individuals, 
extend our observation to the whole human race, but 
availing ourselves, as before, of such conceptions, as we 
are enabled to form, of eternity, we can consider how brief 
has been the existence of that race taken collectively, 



HI 

and how its creation, its propagation, and the number- 
less and interesting vicissitudes that have befallen it, 
have all been embraced within the comparatively nar- 
row limits of six thousand years. We may reflect, how 
short a time has proved sufficient for the accomplishment 
of all the great revolutions that have taken place 
amongst mankind ; and how states and empires, by the 
brevity of their existence, would seem to have shared 
in the littleness of their human artificer. We may me- 
ditate on the striking and rapid changes, that have 
taken place in laws, governments, customs, and even 
in morality itself, all of which betray the connexion 
of these things with a being, whose nature is imper- 
fect, and his existence transitory. Upon the whole, 
in whatever point of view man presents himself to 
our notice and contemplation, whether as an indi- 
vidual or a species, whether in youth, in manhood, or 
in age, we meet with such clear and unequivocal tokens 
of his frailty, and of the uncertainty and brevity of his 
existence, as cannot fail to satisfy every reflecting mind 
of the truth and beauty of the description given of him 
in the text. Let us now attend a little to the improve- 
ment, which we may and ought to derive from the 
preceding observations. 

And, first, can we, my friends, rise from the views, 
which we have now taken of the nature and state of 
man, without a feeling of deep humility, resulting from 
the conviction of our own weakness and littleness, and 
of our entire dependence upon a superior power ? Who 
can think of indulging his pride, at such a moment, by 
dwelling on the trifling and brief distinctions, that may 
exist between himself and some of his poorer or less 



142 

favored brethren ? Do we not wonder, for a moment 
how a feeling like this, could ever have entered into the 
breast of a being, manifestly so helpless and imperfect ? 
Are we not further led to think, of what inconceivable 
importance it is to us, whose nature is so frail, and 
whose existence is so precarious, to have some superior 
Being, on whose support we may rely, and whose fa- 
vor and protection we may hope to obtain ? Do we 
not long to share in the pious confidence, with which 
we find the Psalmist exclaiming, " God is our refuge and 
strength, a present help in time of trouble : therefore 
will we not fear, though the earth be removed and though 
the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea ; 
though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, though 
the mountains shake with the swelling thereof. The 
Lord of Hosts is with us ; the God of Jacob is our re- 
fuge ?" What can be better calculated to cherish the 
humble and pious feeling of dependence, by which this 
holy confidence must be preceded, than reflections such 
as those in which we have been engaged ? Must not. the 
language of every heart, that has accompanied those re- 
flections, be "Lord, what is man that thou art mindful 
of him, or the son of man that thou visitest him ?" 

Secondly, the reflections, which we have been led by 
the text to make on the brevity and uncertainty of the 
present life, should assist us in forming more correct ideas 
respecting its value. They should prevent us from set- 
ting our whole hearts upon the attainment of happiness, 
which may be so speedily interrupted, and must be so 
transitory. They should teach us the folly of laying up 
for ourselves treasures only upon the earth, where moth 
and rust may corrupt, and where thieves can break through 



143 

and steal. They should teach us to regard the highest 
honors and the richest gifts and the sweetest enjoyments 
within the power of this brief and chequered existence to 
bestow, as too mean, too interrupted, loo uncertain, too 
short-lived to satisfy us ; too imperfect, in a word, either 
to engage our strongest desires, or to stimulate us to 
make use of our most strenuous efforts for their attain- 
ment. There is but little danger, my friends, of feel- 
ings of this kind being carried to excess. We have all 
of us, it is true, duties to perform as members of society, 
which ought not to be neglected. Desires and fears 
arise within us, which will not readily suffer themselves 
to remain unattended to. Their impulses may be obey- 
ed to a certain extent, consistently with religion ; and 
when it declares war against them indiscriminately, its 
power is abused, and its very existence endangered. 
But with all this we are not immediately concerned at 
present. We speak merely of the effects, which the 
contemplation of the brevity and uncertainty of human 
life, may be expected to produce upon the mind. And 
surely, my friends, it ought to give rise within us to 
what may be called a magnanimous indifference to tem- 
poral concerns. It should teach us, in the words of the 
apostle Paul, to " use this world, as though we used it 
not." 

Thirdly, as the preceding reflections have an evident 
tendency to render us in some degree dissatisfied with 
a life so brief and imperfect as the present, so they may 
be expected to excite within our minds the most ardent 
desires after another and a better. Believing in the 
existence and perfections of the Deity, we are en- 
couraged to hope, that a more glorious destiny and 



144 

a more durable abode await the virtuous hereafter ; 
and we hail with delight the discoveries of a well au- 
thenticated revelation, by which hope has been convert- 
ed into certainty, and Jife and immortality clearly 
brought to light. What a new and dignified attitude, 
my fellow christians, is man now enabled to assume ! 
What a divine brightness does this discovery shed upon 
his heaven-directed countenance ! He becomes a new 
creature. He seems to tread the earth with a statelier 
step, as conscious of his immortal destiny. He recog- 
nizes in himself his Creator's image ; and aspires to 
vindicate by his virtues his claim to the heavenly inher- 
itance. 

And this leads us to remark, lastly, that, in our pres- 
ent circumstances, as christians, reflections such as 
those in which we have been engaged, should contri- 
bute greatly to confirm our resolutions, to improve to 
the best advantage the time with which we may be 
favored here. The present life assumes a new and 
most important character, when viewed as a preparation 
for eternity. In this point of view, brief as it maybe, 
we must acknowledge it to be inestimable. We may 
be unable indeed to determine in what precise degree 
our eternal happiness will be affected by our conduct 
here ; but, surely, no reasonable being can entertain a 
doubt, that conduct, by which his eternal condition may 
be even remotely affected, must possess a degree of im- 
portance unspeakably greater than any that can attach 
itself to temporal concerns. Let our minds then, my 
fellow-christians, be deeply impressed by this awfully 
interesting view of the present life ; and let us en- 
deavor to regulate our conduct accordingly. Let us 



145 



resolve, with the Divine blessing, henceforth to " walk 
circumspectly, not as fools, but as wise, redeeming the 
time." May God confirm our resolutions and bless our 
efforts, so that our conduct during this brief existence 
may be the means of obtaining for us, through his 
mercy in Christ Jesus, an everlasting reward ! Amen. 



PRAYER. 

Eternal God, the author and supporter of life, we 
humble ourselves in thy sight, impressed with a sense 
of our frail and transitory nature. O teach us, we im- 
plore thee, so to number our days, that we may apply 
our hearts unto wisdom. Teach us to withdraw our 
affections from things on the earth, and fix them on 
things above. Teach us to prepare ourselves, and ever 
hold ourselves prepared, for that great change which may 
come as a thief in the night. Lead our feeble and 
wavering hearts to fix themselves firmly on Thee, that 
while we are of the earth earthy, we may feel ourselves 
allied with heaven, and look forward in satisfaction 
to the time when mortality shall be swallowed up of life. 
Merciful and gracious Father, grant us thy aid in all our 
duties ; and since we, by reason of our sinfulness and frail- 
ty, are too weak to rely upon ourselves, may we be so di- 
rected by thy holy spirit and animated by the example 
of our once suffering but now triumphant Lord, that we 
may pass the short time of our sojourning here in peace, 
and finally, be made partakers of the heavenly inherit- 
ance. 

With devout confidence and joy we cast on Thee 
19 



146 

our own cares and the cares of our kindred and friends, 
only entreating Thee, that whether or not Thou length- 
enest out the period of our present endearing union, 
Thou wilt not withhold from us the felicity of meeting 
again, all happy, all redeemed, in that world where will 
no longer be found the anxieties and pains which min- 
gle with our present delights. For the disclosure of 
the bright prospects of the eternal world, and for the 
redemption which is in Jesus Christ, may we ever as 
now hallow thy name and reverence the Saviour ; 
through whom to Thee, Eternal God and most gra- 
cious Father, be ascribed supreme and endless honour. 
Amen. 



SERMON IX 



THE ACT OF CREATION A JV EMBLEM OF THE 
CHRISTIAN'S DUTY. 



Genesis i. 31. 



"and god saw evert thing that he had made, and behold, it 
was vert good.' 

In the act of creation, the mightiest attributes of the 
Great First Cause are implied ; but it is in the feeling 
with which the glorious work was contemplated, that 
we recognize most distinctly the God " whose name 
is Love." That feeling is shadowed out in the sublime 
simplicity of the text. Stage after stage, as the majes- 
tic work proceeded, the historian of the infant world 
represents the Divine Artificer as pausing to review the 
successive emanations of his power, and as contempla- 
ting them with divine approval. The whole was now 
completed. The " six day ? s work" had been concluded ; 
and the Deity is again represented as lingering over the 
young creation, and gazing upon it (if we may compare 
human feelings with divine) as a father gazes upon the 
sleep of his child : " and God saw every thing that he 
had made, and, behold, it was very good." It is in vain 
for human feelings to dream of shadowing out what 



148 

passed, at such a moment, through the mind of the 
Deity. " It is high, and we cannot attain unto it." It 
is, in its own nature, incommunicable ; for " the things 
of God knoweth no man, but the Spirit of God" — and 
"who hath known the mind of the Lord ? or who hath 
been his counsellor ?" And not only must this be the 
case with regard to those, who " die before the moth," 
but it must equally apply to higher natures than our 
own. In proportion as they rise to superior dignity and 
power, they can form, as it were, a more glorious shad- 
ow of what it is that constitutes the bliss of God ; but 
to conceive of any thing like the sublime reality, is not 
more denied to the child of dust and death, than to the 
adoring seraph and the burning archangel. If there be 
any thing, that may give us the faintest glimpse of what 
passes through the mind of the Deity, at moments like 
those which are commemorated in the text, it is that 
emotion of self-approval, which accompanies the per- 
formance of a virtuous action. Virtue, in our sense of 
the word, cannot be assigned to the supreme Being. 
" God cannot be tempted, neither tempteth he any man :" 
whereas the greater part of our earthly virtue arises 
from the performance of the duties assigned us, in spite 
of the many temptations by which we are surrounded. 
Yet, dissimilar as the cases may be, the feelings of a good 
man after the performance of a good action are the 
nearest approximation to those of the Divine Creator, 
when he looked benignly down upon the finished world. 
Love is his name, and beneficence is his bliss. He had 
put forth his power in another act of goodness : he be- 
held his work, and he beheld it with divine complacency: 
he " saw every thing that he had made, and behold, it 
was very good." 



149 

And was it not, my brethren, a spectacle upon which 
the Divine Artificer might linger with pleasure ? There 
it was moving, a bright and beautiful world, where of 
late there had been nothing but the " blackness of dark- 
ness." There it was travelling on its everlasting path- 
way, in the freshness of its prime, and sparkling yet with 
the dews of its morning glory. Not a cloud had as yet 
gone up to darken the sky ; not a blight had passed 
over the new-born flowers ; not a leaf had fallen from 
the glorious trees, which stood where they had risen at 
the word of God. There lay the infant ocean, smiling, 
as it were, in its cradle, with its world of bright waters 
dancing and flashing in the sunbeams, which had nev- 
er known a mist or a cloud. Its boundaries were then 
marked by a thousand beautiful regions, which were 
blotted out and buried by the waters of the deluge. Land 
and sea alike were tenanted with living creatures, that 
as yet were strangers in their own bright world, enjoy- 
ing the happy life which they had just received from the 
breath of the Creator. Among them were creatures of 
giant strength, and of surpassing beauty, of which, in 
many cases, there are no remains, or of which the bones, 
preserved in the caverns of the earth, or imbedded in 
the petrified slime of the flood, speak faintly to us of 
the powerful and magnificent creatures, which now only 
exist in the remembrance of him who made them. Then, 
however, they walked the earth in all their beauty and 
their glory. Myriads of living creatures were sporting 
in the shining seas ; the unpolluted rivers were teeming 
with joyous life ; every field was covered with herbage, 
and every bank with flowers, yet green and glowing 
from the hand of their Maker : and everv wood re- 



150 

sounded with the songs of the tuneful strangers, who 
sung as if they never could die. All this, my brethren, 
was bright and happy ; but as yet we have made no re- 
ference to the master-work of all. Had the work of 
creation terminated at. the fifth — or even at the early 
part of the sixth and closing day — the eye of the Maker 
would have dwelt upon a creation that was beautiful 
comparatively in vain, and the angels might have looked 
with wonder upon the splendid desert, of which the oc- 
cupants were so unequal to their dwelling, and in which 
there was no creature that could lift a thought to its 
God. It was, therefore, over the paradise of Eden, that 
the eye of God lingered with the divinestjoy. It was 
there he beheld the youngest child of his love. It was 
there he beheld the noblest creature of his power. Un- 
der the shadows of those immortal trees by the sacred 
waters of the river of Eden, He saw the first ancestors 
of a new race of beings, who where alone capable of hold- 
ing communion with their Deity, in the sanctuary yet 
so radiant and unpolluted. They were the crown and 
the glory of all. From them was to spring a new race 
of beings, who were to " have dominion over all the 
works of his hands." It is, indeed, true, that, even in 
that moment, the eye of omniscience must have taken in 
the whole futurity of that race — their fall, their sorrows, 
their errors, and their graves. But he also saw the ter- 
mination of all these evils — the bitter waters of sorrow 
received into the ocean of glory — the clouds of error 
and of evil, after discharging, as they passed, all their 
lightnings and their rain, collecting at length into one. 
unfading sunset, one everlasting paradise of light 
and joy. Foreknowledge like this could have had no 



151 

power to darken, in the Creator's eye, that vision of glory. 
On the contrary, it must have formed the last and high- 
est ingredient in 

" The joy of God to see si happy world." 

No fact requires less to be proved, because no fact is 
more obvious and acknowledged, than the difference 
which exists between " the thoughts of man's heart" and 
" the work of his hands." Such are the deficiencies of his 
technical skill, and such the imperfection of the ma- 
terials which he must employ, that no man yet, in any 
high department of art, has satisfied himself with the 
execution of his own designs. The statuary finds it 
impracticable to impart to the marble that indefinite 
and inexpressible air of beauty and of grandeur, which 
none but himself perceives to be wanting, but which he 
has spent his life in the vain endeavour to communicate. 
The painter is unable to give to the glowing canvas the 
fine ethereal soul, which at once inspires and escapes 
him, and which haunts his waking dreams, as the sound 
of gushing waters is forever in the ear of the wanderer 
of the desert. The musician lives and dies, without 
having succeeded in communicating to others the melody 
of his own soul. Little minds, indeed, are vain of their 
performances ; but it has ever been a characteristic of 
minds of the highest order, to feel how little the best 
that they have done corresponds with the antetype ex- 
isting in their own minds. In this respect, as in all 
others, the Divine Creator is unimaginably elevated, 
not only above the children of dust and death, but above 
the highest natures that inhabit the majestic creations 
around us. Whatever he conceives, he can execute as 
he conceives it. The glorious and beautiful image, which 



"152 

passes like a dream over the thoughts of the everlasting 
mind, He can transfer at once, by a mere act of voli- 
tion, from his own divine conceptions to any part of the 
vast infinitude which he fills. His execution can never 
be inferior to his designs. His acts invest themselves 
with the form and substance of his conceptions. They 
need no amendment; they admit no improvement; but, 
coming from what is all-perfect, they are transcripts of 
its perfection. Every thing comes from his hand, to 
use the common language of the scriptures and of na- 
ture, exactly as it existed originally in his mind ; and 
when, in consequence, he contemplates his works, he 
feels, not the limitation but the plenitude of his power* 
■** He sees every thing that he has made, and, behold, it 
is very good." 

To understand this, no less than to improve it, we 
must remember, that the Creator did not come to his 
magnificent task, without any knowledge, or with but 
an imperfect knowledge, of what he was himself about 
to perform — that he did not leave it to the chance of 
the moment to determine what form the whole, or any 
part, was to take. On the contrary, the complacency 
of the Divine Artificer in reviewing his work, must, in 
part, be attributed to its exact conformity with his de- 
signs ; and this implies, what it is impossible to question, 
that, before the act of creation had been begun, the full 
and perfect idea of what was to be created existed in 
the foreknowledge of the Almighty Maker. He did not 
see this new system of things more visibly and distinctly, 
at the moment referred to, in the text, than he had seen 
it in his own divine conceptions, before the first beam 
of light had struck its bright way through the uncrea- 



153 

ted gloom. The whole, and all its parts, pre-existed in 
the thoughts of the Great Designer. From its grandest 
outlines to its minutest details, everything that was to 
be called into being had its antetype in the Creator's 
mind ; and the whole system of nature and life, from 
the everlasting sun to the vanishing dew-drop, from the 
rings of the earthworm to the mechanism of the human 
mind, had its glorious model in the thoughts of God, 
as distinct and resplendent, as beautiful and perfect, as 
" when he saw every thing that he had made, and the 
evening and the morning were the sixth day," 

And here it is, that the practical use of the passage 
commences. There are two ways of going through life, 
upon our respective views of which, and consequent 
choice or rejection, the honour and happiness of the fu- 
ture- must unavoidably depend. One of these ways, is 
to throw ourselves blindly upon the chances of the 
future, to enter upon life without any end or aim, with- 
out any definite plan of conduct or determinate prin- 
ciples' of action. The other is, the reverse of all this : 
it is to enter upon life, with the resolution not to be 
made good or evil at the caprice of circumstances — not 
to transfer to chance the sovereignty of reason — not to 
be whatever the passing hour may suggest, nor to take, 
like the chameleon, the colour of the ground on which 
we may be thrown. It is to embark upon the all-im- 
portant voyage, with a perfect previous acquaintance 
with the chart of our course, and with a determination 
not to shift our sails at every shifting of the fickle wind, 
but to hold, with or against it, the one inflexible course, 
which will bring us at last to anchor in the bay, for 
which we had sailed. It is to regard life, from the 
20 



154 

first, not as a game of hazard, but of thought and skill ; 
and to enter upon it, as such, with the deliberate de- 
sign of suffering no circumstances to alter the mind ; 
with our line of future conduct firmly drawn and our 
principles of future action determined and decided. 

To life, as it lies before us in the future, we may ap- 
ply the description of the newly-moulded earth, while 
it was yet a rude and indigested mass, and before light 
had sprung from the gloom of chaos. " And the earth 
was without form and void, and darkness was upon the 
face of the deep." In the same manner, my brethren, 
the future may be said to spread before us, from the 
time we are capable of comprehending what the future 
implies. It lies beneath us, as the shapeless earth lay 
under the spirit which " moved upon the face of the 
waters." Vague, dark, and undefined, it expands be- 
fore us ; and all that we see is but " visible darkness.'* 
Yet we know that within that obscure and mysterious 
round, there exist the elements, as yet undeveloped, 
which are necessary to the creation of a beautiful life ; 
and that within that mass of darkness and indistinct- 
ness, are concealed the rich materials of spiritual beauty 
and light. 

Every man may, therefore, draw a humble and 
instructive parallel between his own situation, when 
he enters upon his rational life, and that of the Divine 
Artificer of all, when the materials of creation were lying 
unused before Him. True it is, that the darkness which 
enveloped the infant world, was light to Him, to whom 
" the darkness is as the light ;" but the parallel is yet 
sufficiently close and accurate, to enable us to gather 
a sublime lesson from the passage. The spirit of man 



155 

• 

may usefully and unpresumptuously consider itself as 
presiding — in a manner similar, though not the same — 
over the dark and dormant elements of a future creation. 
Life expands itself in vague obscurity before his eye ; 
the means and occasions of future virtue and usefulness 
lie dim and undeveloped in the shadows of the years 
before him ; and it is his peculiar and god-like privi- 
lege to call forth light from that mysterious chaos, — to 
advance, through the work of the successive " evenings 
and mornings," to the last great work of paradise re- 
newed, and immortality regained — and so to create out 
of the materials assigned him, that, when the sixth day's 
work shall close, he may be able to look back upon all 
with the peace of an immortal. 

This is not a view of man in an imaginary character, 
but in a real one. Every human being may, in a 
moral and spiritual sense, consider himself as the creator 
of his own destiny. But, if he desire that his creation 
should be bright, beautiful, and happy, he must be con- 
tent, at humble distance, to follow the steps of his Di- 
vine Exemplar. He must not come to his momentous 
task, without any definite purpose, or fixed rules of 
action, predisposed to be turned aside from the appoint- 
ed track by every counter-wind— but he must come to 
it, with a clear and distinct perception of what it is that 
he has to seek and to do— with the object of his voyage 
ascertained, its direction fixed, and its chart under- 
stood. He must come to his humbler, but to him 
majestic work, as the Maker came to that of creating a 
world, with the clear and full knowledge of what he is 
about to do — with the distinct and perfect idea of that, 
which must be realized in the mind, before it can be 



156 

realized in the life. In other words, he must come to 
the great work of time, with the fixed and practical 
knowledge of the purposes of his being, with the faith of 
religion impressed upon his mind, its charity upon his 
heart, and its hope upon his soul. 

Then the crude elements of existence, as they are 
successively brought before us, may rise into new forms 
of virtue and of wisdom, as each of the six days' works 
of God improved upon the last, till the bright whole was 
done. Every stage of existence may shed a new glory 
upon those which went before it; and " the evening 
and morning" of every day, as it passes, may see new 
beauties added to the growing creation of the soul. 

A more solemn application of these views remains. 
There will be a time, when the spiritual work, of which 
we have been the creators, be it dark or bright, will be 
brought to its close — and when, as the Divine Spirit 
paused over the finished world, the eye of departing life 
will be cast back upon the past, reviewing all its scenes 
of good or evil. At such a moment, who would not 
wish, that, as far as human imperfection will permit, he 
should be able to say of the life he was finishing and 
retracing, " behold it. is very good ?" Such a moment, 
my brethren, we must all experience ; and upon the 
feelings with which we can take that review, will de- 
pend the blessedness or the bitterness of death. Not 
as we now see them, shall we then see the objects and 
the vanities of the world. Anxiously will the eye of 
the spirit look back, not for what has been enjoyed, but 
for what has been improved — not for what has made 
us happy only for time, but for what has been used 
with a silent reference to eternity. At such a time, the 



157 

best of us can scarcely expect to be able to say of the 
past, that, " behold it is very good ;" but there is a 
humble and peaceful trust, which is attainable by all 
who remember the end from the beginning, and which 
will enable the good man, when all is done, to breathe 
his last in peace and praise. And, if this appears to us 
an object worthy of our quest — if to " the beauty of holi- 
ness" in life, we would join the peace of the mortal hour 
— it can only be done by the course of which you have 
now been reminded— by considering time as the ele- 
mentary substance from which we are to extract the 
fine creations of eternity ; by coming to the lofty 
labour, with the fixed and distinct knowledge of the 
uses to which we are to apply the dark materials before 
us ; and by determining so to live, that, when we shall 
look back upon everything that we have done, it may 
be not evil but good. 

These are thoughts which need not fall to the 
ground, unless it be, indeed as the seeds of future wis- 
dom. They do not apply to any number, or order of 
men, but to all who breathe. The future must lie be- 
fore all to be used, the past must lie behind all to be 
reviewed ; and as life shall have been used for good or 
evil, so it will be reviewed with peace or with pain. 
How much, my brethren, may these moments teach us, 
if we only go hence to act upon our present convictions ! 
And what but " the hardness of our hearts" should pre- 
vent us ? Why should we not retire from our medita- 
tions, to use time better, and to think of eternity more ? 



158 



PRAYER. 

Creator of life and of nature ! we bless Thee for the 
love which is manifested in the structure of this our 
beautiful and native world. We, too, feel and acknowl- 
edge, as we look upon every thing that Thou hast 
made, that, behold, it is very good. We, too, would 
strive, in our contracted sphere, to be imitators of Him 
who called up light out of darkness. Creators of our 
own destiny, for good or for evil, we would implore thine 
assistance to guide us into the one, and to guard us 
from the other. Whatever the darkness of coming time 
may conceal, may we view it as the means, and use 
it to the ends of wisdom. May we enter upon the sol- 
emn task of creating an eternity out of time, not with a 
loose and unsettled knowledge of what Thou requirest 
at our hands, but with fixed and distinct ideas of what 
it is our duty to avoid, and our happiness to perform. 
Thus may we strive to get wisdom, and with all our 
getting to get understanding. Thus may we prepare 
ourselves for that awful hour, when the flesh and the 
heart of mortality shall fail, and when all our trust, 
even in mercy like Thine, must depend upon our not 
having wholly forgotten our God. Then, now, and ever 
be Thou our shield and our stay, our Almighty friend 
and our Everlasting Father ! Amen. 



SERMON X. 



THE MORAL INFLUENCES OF CHRIST'S 
DEATH. 



1 Peter Hi. 18. 



"FOR CHRIST ALSO HATH ONCE SUFFERED FOR SINS, THE JUST FOR 
THE UNJUST, THAT HE MIGHT BRING US TO GOD." 

What was the cause, and what the object, and what 
the designed effects of the death of Jesus Christ ? 

Many fanciful, many mysterious notions have been 
connected with the subject. The event has been com- 
monly regarded as possessing an interest and importance 
quite independent of its relation to the general tenor of 
our Saviour's ministry, and to the perceived and ac- 
knowledged objects of his mission. It has been often 
viewed as a mysterious anomaly in the plans of provi- 
dence ; as intended to produce effects with which it has 
no perceivable or probable connexion, and to operate 
the mightiest changes, no one can tell how. It has thus 
become an object more of speculative than of practical 
interest. Men have been content to gaze upon the 
spectacle of a crucified Saviour, with a vague feeling of 
wonder and mystery ; instead of seeking, in the contem- 
plation of it, those salutary influences, which the calm 
and grateful contemplation of this important event is 
calculated to convey to the serious and devout mind. 



160 

The subject is divested of mystery, if not of all dif- 
ficulty, by the apostle Peter's account of it, in the brief 
passage recited as our text. Let it be asked, what was 
the cause of the death of Christ ? The answer is here ; 
" Christ hath once suffered for sins ;" because of sins, 
on account of sins, is the apostle's meaning ; not as a 
punishment for sins, since Christ we know was without 
sin. But he suffered on account of the sins of others. 
It was because sin was in the world, that he came " to 
bless mankind by turning them from their iniquities ;" 
and it was the sinfulness of men that closed his mission 
of mercy with the death upon the cross. Christ then 
suffered on account of sins. 

Is it asked, why an innocent person suffered ? 
What was the object contemplated by divine wisdom 
and by the Saviour's obedient love in this event ? The 
answer is here before us. It was for the good of others, 
for the benefit of an unworthy world. Christ suffered 
" the just for the unjust." Yet not instead of the un- 
just. The apostle's language implies no such idea. They 
are not exempted from suffering by his endurance : they 
are not authorized to sin by his obedience : he has not 
released them, he could not release them, from their in- 
dividual responsibility to the laws of God. The friend 
who encounters danger or endures privation for the sake 
of another, does not thereby procure for his friend an 
exemption from similar sacrifices in similar circumstan- 
ces. The parent, who practises self-denial for the sake 
of his children, does it not in their stead, but for their 
benefit. Still less can the virtues of one man be trans- 
ferred to another's account. They may benefit him, 
but they cannot stand in the place of personal exertion. 



161 

Christ then suffered, " the just on behalf of the unjust," 
the good for the benefit of the unworthy. Even their 
sins could not steel the divine compassion, or chill the 
Saviour's love. God loved the world in spite of its 
wickedness ; he pitied his creatures on account of their 
misery ; and " while they were yet without strength, 
Christ died for the ungodly." Christ suffered, then, the 
just on behalf of the unjust. 

Is it further asked, how Christ's sufferings were 
calculated to benefit those for whom he endured them ; 
what was the purpose of divine providence in his death ; 
what the result destined to flow from it ; we still read 
the answer here, " Christ hath once suffered on account 
of sins, the just on behalf of the unjust, that he might 
bring us to God." This is the use of Christ's death. It 
was not, then, to bring God to us. It was not to recon- 
cile God to his creatures, but his creatures to God. The 
change to be produced, was to take place in them, not 
in Him. It was they that needed reformation ; not 
He that wanted mercy. He is unchangeable in his 
character and designs ; but they must change from sin 
to holiness, if they would enjoy the light of his favor. 
Accordingly, the Scriptures uniformly represent the 
plan of redemption by Christ, as proceeding from the 
fixed and unchanging benignity of God, and designed 
to operate with a benignant influence Upon the character 
and state of human beings. " God was in Christ recon- 
ciling the world unto himself," says St. Paul, " not im- 
puting their trespasses unto them ; and hath committed 
unto us (that is, to the Apostles) the word of reconcili- 
ation. Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as 
though God did beseech you by us ; we pray you in 
21 



162 

Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God." Thus, then, 
Christ suffered to bring us unto God. 

Yet how to bring us to God ? What is the con- 
nexion between Christ's sufferings, and the relation of 
distance or propinquity in which we stand towards 
God ? We must beware of supposing, that the suffer- 
ings of Jesus have effected any miraculous and unac- 
countable change in our state and expectations, inde- 
pendent of a corresponding change in our principles and 
habits and pursuits and hopes. It is upon ourselves, 
not upon our state or condition, that the blessed change 
is directly to operate. The effect can be produced upon 
our state and condition, only in consequence of, and by 
virtue of, the effect produced on ourselves. We cannot 
be brought to God for the enjoyment of happiness, ex- 
cept in proportion as we are brought to him in obedi- 
ence. The influence of the sufferings of Christ is to 
commence on our hearts and characters, and so to be 
consummated in that heavenly blessedness which is pro- 
mised to them that love God. 

But we must also beware of supposing that the suf- 
ferings of Christ are calculated to exert a moral change 
upon ourselves, in any supernatural and irresistible way. 
We shall not be transformed from sin to holiness, all at 
once, and without exertion on our own part. We shall 
not be brought unto God, without feeling our progress, 
without striving for its completion. The sufferings of 
Christ are calculated to produce the effect in an assign- 
able and natural manner : the influence which they ex- 
ert, is to be felt, by tracing their connexion with the 
whole course of his life and the obvious purposes of his 
mission, and then laying open the understanding and 



163 

the affections to the unconstrained influence of the con- 
templation of Christ crucified. 

And here it is of importance to observe, that when 
Christ is said to have " suffered, that he might bring us 
to God," it is by no means implied that his death was 
the only means made use of in accomplishing this end. 
He both lived and died for the same purpose. The 
whole course of his ministry was devoted to the pur- 
suit of one great object, "that he might bring men to 
God." For this reason he taught ; with this view he 
wrought miracles by the power which the Father had 
given him ; for this end he labored ; for this end he 
underwent the hardships of a destitute and laborious 
life, and endured the reproaches and injuries of cruel 
men ; and still for the same end it was that he suffered 
death. The object which he had to accomplish he 
steadily pursued to the last. Not content with devoting 
his life to its promotion, he suffered death in the same 
cause ; and by his death, as by his life, labored to re- 
concile erring man to his Maker. " Jesus Christ came 
to save sinners." " Jesus Christ died for our sins." 

This is what is meant, I apprehend, when the 
Apostle says in our text, " Christ suffered once, that he 
might bring us to God." The death of our Saviour is 
not to be regarded as totally unconnected with the 
events of his life and mission. He did not live for one 
purpose, and die for another. He did not accomplish 
by his death any object of a totally distinct nature from 
those to which his life was devoted. But in the promo- 
tion of that one great end, of bringing the wandering 
creatures J God to their heavenly Father's favor and 
blessing, he encountered every difficulty, he exerted 



164 

every effort, he shrank from no danger, he even suffered 
death. These considerations I regard as of great 
importance for understanding the true sense of those 
frequent allusions which the writers of the New Testa- 
ment make to the sufferings of Jesus, and especially to 
his death, as the means of bringing men to God. 

I do not now speak of that class of allusions, in 
which the death of Jesus is described as a sacrifice. The 
meaning of sacrificial language in reference to that event 
must be learnt by examining the nature and uses of sa- 
crifice under the Jewish religion. I now refer to those 
passages, which, like my V;xt, seem to describe the 
moral influence of Christ's sufferings in bringing men to 
God. Let the meaning of such passages be illustrated 
by a few familiar instances. 

We hear it said ; such a man has killed himself by 
his intemperance. Another has sacrificed his life to 
study. Now, the sacrifice of life is mentioned, to ex- 
press the entire devotedness of the individual to his one 
engrossing habit or pursuit, which has at length proved 
fatal. But it might have been said, such a man ruined his 
health by his excesses ; and the other broke his consti- 
tution by his imprudent mental application. And while 
the effect had proceeded no further, let it be observed, 
this would be said. But when the fatal result has taken 
place, all the rest is implied and summed up in the his- 
tory of his melancholy end. 

And just so, we say of another; that man is wearing 
himself out, by philanthropic exertions too great for 
human strength : he will surely sacrifice himself ere 
long to the dangers of foreign climate or infectious dis- 
ease : 



165 



" O'er burning sands, deep waves, and wilds of snow, 
A Howard journeying seeks the house of wo : 
Down many a winding step to dungeons dank, 
Where anguish wails aloud and fetters clank, 
To caves bestrew'd with many a mouldering bone, 
And cells whose echoes only learn to groan ; 
Where no kind bars a whispering friend disclose, 
No sunbeam enters, and no zephyr blows, 
He treads, inemulous of fame or wealth, 
Profuse of toil and prodigal of health." 

And should the ill-fated anticipation for him be realized, 
we shall thenceforth say of him, as the brief but em- 
phatic abstract of his history, "He has fallen a martyr 
to his labors of benevolence." It would then be im- 
plied and understood, that he had spent his life in that 
cause which had accelerated his death. It might be 
imagined that he had gradually impaired his constitution, 
by the labors to which he at length fell a sacrifice, and 
that he had repeatedly exposed himself to the dangers 
which at last destroyed him. We make mention of his 
death, to sum up his labors in one word ; to denote the 
extent of his devotedness to the cause he had at heart ; 
as the crowning circumstance in the history of his dis- 
interested benevolence. 

On the same principles, then, why may we not ex- 
plain the frequency and the fervor of the allusions made 
in the Apostolic writings to the death of Jesus Christ ; 
and the unquestionable fact that his death is more often 
spoken of in connexion with the blessings of the gos- 
pel than is the case with his life and instructions, 
or any of his previous sufferings or hardships ? When 
our Lord prophetically declares, " I lay down my life 
for the sheep ;" and when an Apostle writes that 
" Christ died for the ungodly," we do not suppose that 
all the blessings of the gospel were conveyed by the 



166 

single and insulated fact of his death, without reference 
to his life, his miracles, his preaching, his previous suf- 
ferings ; any more than we suppose, in the former case, 
that the only instance of Howard's philanthropy was 
given in his death, caused by a disease which he caught 
in visiting a prison. Else what had been the use of 
Christ's teaching and his miracles, if his death were 
the sole means of effecting our salvation ? No ; this is 
the finishing of his mission; the crowning circumstance 
of his labors ; the highest exemplification possible, as 
it is the last, of his supreme love and obedience to God, 
and his never exhausted, never daunted desire of bene- 
fiting mankind. As the greatest trial of his faith and 
fortitude, which his prophetic knowledge presented to 
him beforehand, he spake of his decease to his disciples ; 
and when he was no more with them in the world, this 
naturally became the event on which their affectionate 
recollection of him was wont most often and most ten- 
derly to dwell, and round which their thoughts of all 
his labors and miracles and instructions, and of the 
whole tenor of his converse with them, most aptly and 
forcibly gathered in sadly grateful remembrance. 

In this light let us regard it ; as connected with his 
ministry, as intimately related to the purposes of his 
mission, and deriving thence its importance and its in- 
terest ; and I trust we can hardly fail to understand the 
propriety of the apostle's declaration, " Christ suffered, 
that he might bring us to God." 

The death of Jesus does this, if viewed, as in all 
cases it should be, in connexion with his life, — 

I. Because it evinces, with especial force, the good- 
ness of God in sending his Son to die for the world. The 
goodness of God indeed, as displayed in the mission of 



167 

Jesus Christ, strikes us according to the estimate we form 
of the blessings derived from his mission. It is because 
we esteem those blessings to be exceedingly great, that 
the goodness of God in bestowing them attracts us to their 
great author. But then, we naturally estimate the magni- 
tude of the blessing, in part at least, by observing the 
cost (so to speak) at which it hath been obtained. And 
when we see, that for the communication of the religion 
of the gospel, not only was it necessary to raise up by 
special means, and endow with peculiar and amazing 
powers, the person who was to be the instrument in re- 
vealing the counsels of heaven ; not only was he made 
competent to teach what man never taught before, and 
to perform greater works than ever prophet had done 
besides him, but, that it was also requisite to subject 
this distinguished person to the greatest of hardships, 
and even to a most ignominious and cruel death ; it is 
a natural reflection for us to make, surely the gospel 
design must be of supreme importance, and the love of 
God to his creatures, as shown in it, must be surpassingly 
great, when, for the completion of the design to enlighten 
and to save the world, it was ordained that a being so 
pure, so good, so benevolent, and so truly great as this 
Son of God, should be " the man of sorrows, and ac- 
quainted with grief," and be " led as a lamb to the 
slaughter." Viewed in this light, surely the sufferings 
of Christ ought to " bring us to God." But, 

II. They have the same influence, when we regard 
them as exhibiting the earnestness of the Saviour's own 
love to mankind. He himself appealed to them in 
proof of it. " Greater love" he said, " hath no man 
than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.'' 



168 

No ! compassionate Redeemer ! thy love hath never 
been surpassed — never equalled, by any man. It Was 
not daunted by most appalling dangers, nor chilled by 
deepest ingratitude, nor worn out by severest suffering, 
nor overcome by the tortures of the cross ! In this last 
act, the love of Christ rose to its consummation. Com- 
pared with this, all the labors and sufferings of his life 
sink into the shade. And, for this his love, are we not 
impelled to the grateful and affectionate love of Christ? 
Then, whatever sentiments we are led to entertain to- 
wards the Saviour, by the contemplation of his charac- 
ter and life and death, are necessarily and naturally the 
means of " leading us to God." For, in the works and 
words of Jesus we behold the Father who sent him ; in 
his character we see the bright image of the Father's 
perfections ; and we remember his own declaration, 
" No man cometh unto the Father but by me." The 
sincere aud affectionate love of Christ will assuredly 
" bring us to God." 

III. The death of Jesus brings us to God, if it 
impresses us, as it is calculated to do, with sympathizing 
sorrow, at the obstinacy of prejudice, and the hardness 
of heart, and the depravity of guilt, which conspired to 
put such a man to death. Who can read the simple 
and affecting history of that sad event, and not feel the 
evil principles of his own breast tutored, by the warning 
which he reads in other men's conduct ? When we see 
the record of human imperfections and sin, we lament 
the weakness of reason, the force of passion, and the fury 
of excited feeling. We pity the weakness of some ; we 
mourn the faults of others. Perhaps we wonder at the 
blindness of prejudice, and the obstinacy of ignorance, 



169 

and are shocked at the deficiency of the plainest prin- 
ciples of justice, and of the simplest moral perceptions, 
which are betrayed in the conduct of many. And is 
there not here a salutary warning for ourselves, since 
we also are of like passions with them, that " we be 
not found," as was their case, " to fight against God ?',' 
Ought not this view of the subject, by the influence of 
contrast, " to bring us to God ?" 

IV. From the conduct of his enemies, we turn to 
view the deportment of Jesus himself; and his last suf- 
ferings bring us to God, by exhibiting the perfection of 
virtue in his example. A great part of the moral effi- 
cacy of the gospel lies in the influence of the Saviour's 
bright example. And it is in the circumstances of his 
death, that his example shines brightest, and his virtues 
gain their consummation. 

What shall we say constitutes the perfection of hu- 
man virtue ? Is it a strength of religious principle which 
never yields ; a firmness of virtuous resolution which is 
never shaken by difficulty, danger or suffering ? Be- 
hold perfection, then, in the closing scenes of the life of 
Jesus. The prospect of death by torture, could not di- 
vert him from his steady purpose. He might have 
escaped the impending fate, by desisting from the course 
which was so obnoxious to the rulers of the earth ; but 
he chose rather to be steadfast in his Father's work. He 
might, even in the last extremity, " have prayed to his 
Father, and he should have given him more than twelve 
legions of angels ;" " but how, then," (it was his own 
pious reflection,) " should the scriptures be fulfilled, that 
so it must be ?" 

Or shall we seek the characteristics of perfection in 
22 



170 

human virtue, by observing the strength of the principle 
of benevolence ? Here, then, we find the perfection of 
benevolence. If it be a height of excellence to which 
few can attain, not only to suppress the groan of tor- 
ture, and the sigh of shuddering agony, but to be able 
effectually to rally the thoughts in the midst of exhaus- 
tion and suffering, and devote the last accents of expiring 
life to the protection of kindred, and the consolation of 
friends ; nor this alone — but to breathe forgiveness for 
insulting enemies, and invoke the pardon of God on 
those who are actually inflicting the tortures of death — 
to say " Father, forgive them, for they know not what 
they are doing ;" if this be the perfection of benevolence, 
it is found in the death of Christ. 

Or would we see the perfection of piety ? Would 
perfect piety constitute perfect virtue? Where shall 
we look for it, if not at the cross of Jesus ? There it 
ministered tranquillity and peace in the midst of agony ; 
there, while it inspired the prayer of forgiveness and 
love, it taught the sufferer to commend his spirit with 
pious trust into the hands of his God and Father. The 
example of Christ, then, exhibits the perfection of vir- 
tue, particularly in the circumstances of his last suffer- 
ings. And why is perfection exhibited, unless to excite 
our admiration, and to animate our efforts to be like our 
Lord ? The contemplation is assuredly designed and 
calculated " to bring us to God." 

In conclusion, one thing of great importance is clear, 
from this view of the several modes in which the suffer- 
ings of Christ are calculated to bring us to God ; viz. 
that it must, after all, depend upon ourselves, whether 
we really come to him or not. What God hath done 



171 

through Christ on our behalf, does not supersede the 
necessity of our own exertions. It has placed us on a 
footing of privilege and advantage, but has not put us in 
actual possession of the prize of our high calling. That 
is still to be labored for. And, in whatever different 
ways the mssion of Christ is seen to be morally calcu- 
lated to bring us to God, we observe that the voluntary 
and assiduous use of the means provided for us is implied. 
Christ is to bring us to God, by making us obedient to 
Him and like Him. There is no mysticism in this. It 
is all plain, all practical. We may question ourselves 
on our own religious conduct and attainments ; and thus, 
and thus only, learn to estimate our condition and ex- 
pectations. But, if we never approach the contempla- 
tion of the life and character and mission and death of 
Jesus ; if we do not put ourselves in the way of the bene- 
ficial influences of such a contemplation ; if we do not 
subject ourselves to the control of the gospel ; it must 
be all in vain to us, whatever it be to worthier disciples, 
that God loved the world and sought to reconcile the 
world unto himself; it must be all in vain to us, that 
Christ lived and taught and suffered on account of sins, 
and rose again for the justification of true believers. 



PRAYER. 

Great and good God ! Thou art ever merciful and 
gracious, though Thy weak children sin against Thee. 
Thy love surpasseth our faults ; Thy mercy goeth be- 
fore our penitence ; thy forgiveness covereth our sins ; 
Thy grace strengtheneth our weakness. Thou didst 



172 

send Thy Son Jesus Christ into the world, to seek and 
to save that which was lost. In his gospel Thou draw- 
est us to Thyself by every cord of love. Thou revealest 
thine own character ; Thou puttest Thy glory in the 
face of Jesus ; Thou teachest us our duty ; Thou in- 
spirest us with the hope of eternal life ; and incitest us 
to the imitation of him who hath gone before us in the 
race of perfection, and first reached the goal of blessed- 
ness. We would follow whither Thou leadest. We 
would go in the path which Christ hath trodden. 
We desire to be with him where he is, at Thy right 
hand, O God ! 

Lord, accept our good purposes : strengthen our vir- 
tuous desires : fix our too wavering efforts. Keep us 
in thy fear. Aid us to live as citizens of heaven. May 
we pass through life in christian innocence and christian 
activity : and when, by the influences of thine earthly 
discipline, guided by the law and life of Jesus, we have 
been brought to Thee in true holiness, O, receive us to 
thyself in eternal happiness. We pray in the name of 
Jesus Christ, who suffered for sins that he might bring 
us to Thee : and to Thee we render, in his name, all 
praise for ever. Amen. 



SERMON XI 



A MESSAGE FROM GOD. 



Judges in. 20. 

"i HAVE A MESSAGE FROM GOD UNTO THEE." 

Numerous are the characters recorded in Scripture 
history, not as examples, but as warnings ; not that we 
should tread in their steps, but that we should resist the 
temptations which lead to the commission of iniquity, 
and avoid the outrages of which vice is often productive. 
Such is the instance, which occasioned the utterance 
of the words of the text. Those words were ac- 
companied by an action, which every consistent and 
practical disciple of Jesus Christ must deprecate. It 
might be instrumental in the deliverance of a people 
from the grievous tyranny of a despotic ruler ; but that 
righteous end could not sanctify the treachery and vio- 
lence which marked the deed of blood. I dwell not, 
however, on the historical recollections of the language. 
I use that language as a fitting form of address, to a 
variety of characters existing in all communities, trust- 
ing, that the message of God to each of them may aid 
the purpose for which all dispensations were given, — the 
instruction, purification and blessedness of every intelli- 
gent creature. 



174 

Among those who have been brought up amidst a 
christian community, and whose minds have been im- 
pressed with a knowledge of christian principles, how 
frequently do we mid individuals acting at variance 
with their profession, bringing discredit on that truth 
which they ought to glorify, and causing to be lightly 
esteemed that system of purity whose commandments 
they are not careful to obey. If we survey the world 
in which we live, we shall discover numbers addicted to 
a vice, which, although it may be common, is not, there- 
fore, the less criminal ; a vice, which is the certain sign 
of a vulgar, uneducated and indevout mind. Though 
they who are addicted to it may not have advanced so 
far in wickedness, as frequently to take the name of 
God in vain, yet still they use a word, which ought 
never to pass the human lips, as the expression of anger 
towards a fellow creature. To any one who may have 
contracted this criminal habit, or who even so far for- 
gets his condition as a frail and fallible being, and his 
character as a disciple of the Saviour of the world, as 
occasionally to use this or similar expressions, I would 
with the utmost seriousness exclaim, " I have a message 
from God unto thee. The man that is accustomed to 
opprobrious words, will never be reformed all the days 
of his life. Therefore, I beseech you, swear not at all ; 
neither by heaven, for it is the throne of God, nor by 
the earth, for it is the footstool of the Most High." 

Another class practise a vice,, the exercise of which 
is pregnant with mischief; a vice, which delights to 
dwell upon and to magnify human follies ; which seems 
pleased to observe, to recollect, and to recount the in- 
stances of human frailty ; which scrutinizes the charac- 



175 

ters of men, not to discover, to admire, and to imitate 
their excellencies, but to find out their stains, and to 
make those their apology for the gratification of a spirit, 
at war with all the charities of human life. Covered 
with an outward garb of fair and honest seeming, it 
may affect to entertain a high idea of every person on 
whom the conversation may chance to turn, but by a 
look, a pause, a half finished sentence, a half pronounced 
word, a movement of the head or of the eye, — the Janus 
glance of which, learning to lie with silence, would seem 
true, — it conveys into the mind the poison of suspicion, 
with so much the more effect, as it appears anxious to 
do the contrary. This hateful disposition, which all, 
more or less, have so many temptations to indulge, I 
would most earnestly caution you against. To any 
one who may be in the smallest measure inclined to its 
practice, with affectionate warmth, I would say, " I have 
a message from God unto thee. Judge not that ye be 
not judged. A whisperer defileth his own soul, and 
is hated wheresoever he dwelleth. Despise, therefore, 
the whisperer and double tongued, for such have de- 
stroyed many that were at peace. A backbiting tongue 
hath disquieted many, and driven them from nation to 
nation. Whoso hearkeneth unto it shall never find rest, 
and never dwell quietly. Many have fallen by the edge 
of the sword, but not so many as have fallen by the 
tongue. Well is he that is defended from it, and hath 
not passed through the venom thereof; the death 
thereof is an evil death, the grave were better than it." 
This man goes beyond and defrauds his neighbor. 
He cares not by what means, or in what manner, he ac- 
cumulates riches, so that, wealth does surround him 



176 

with its splendor. To amass corruptible treasure, he 
will cringe at the foot of power, he will become the 
humble vassal of him w T ho will aid in the attainment of 
his soul's idol. Alternately will he play the tyrant and 
the coward. The cries of the oppressed, the tears of 
the orphan, the loud wailings of human creatures weep- 
ing for their children, and refusing to be comforted be- 
cause they are not, stay not his efforts. Mammon 
marks him as his victim. 

But that man, perchance it may be his neighbor, 
prefers honesty to riches so obtained, the rewards of 
virtue to the gifts of fortune, the applause of his con- 
science and his God, to the approbation of the sinful, 
or the support of the depraved. The only fear that finds 
an entrance into his bosom, is the fear of his Maker. 
Should integrity cause him to become the inmate even 
of the lowly hovel, he will, nevertheless, follow stead- 
fastly her bidding, turning neither to the right hand 
nor to the left. At all events, and under every circum- 
stance, he will shun the meanness that creeps, the sor- 
didness that grovels, the selfishness that alike miscalcu- 
lates and degrades. To each of these individuals I 
would say, " I have a message from God unto thee." 
But how different will be that message ! To the one 
I would say, " Provide things honest in the sight of all 
men. Walk honestly as in the day. Set not thy 
heart on goods unjustly gotten, for they shall not profit 
thee in the day of calamity. Be not greedy to add 
money to money. He that loveth gold shall not be jus- 
tified, and he that followeth corruption shall have enough 
thereof. Gold hath been the ruin of many, and their 
destruction was present. It is a stumbling-block unto 



177 

them which sacrifice unto it, and every fool shall be 
taken therewith. Blessed is the rich that is found with- 
out blemish." To the other individual I would utter 
this language, " A little which a righteous man hath, is 
better than the. riches of many wicked. For the souls 
of the righteous are in the hands of God, and there shall 
no torment touch them. In the sight of the unwise 
they seem to die ; their departure is taken for misery, 
and their going from us to be utter destruction. But 
they are in peace. For though they be punished in the 
sight of men, yet is their hope full of immortality ; and 
having been a little chastised, they shall be greatly re- 
warded, for God proved them, and found them worthy 
for himself. The righteous live for evermore ; their re- 
ward is with the Lord, and the care of them is with the 
Most High ; therefore shall they receive a glorious king- 
dom and beautiful crown from the hand of their God, 
for with his right hand shall he cover them, and with 
his arm shall he protect them." 

Christian parent, what a weighty responsibility is 
yours. How important, how sacred the trust committed 
to your keeping. If you discharge with faithfulness 
your duties, what a blessing may you not be to indi- 
viduals, and to families ; what aid may you not give to 
the world's progress. I f you neglect the calls and claims 
your offspring have on your time, your daily assiduous 
care, your fervent aspirations to the common Father of 
all his children, how may you degrade yourself, and 
brutalize your unhappy descendants, and mar the im- 
provement of the community. Oh, I have a message 
from God unto the christian father. " Provoke not your 
children to wrath, but train them up in the nurture and 
23 



178 

admonition of the Lord. Christian mother, may your 
children rise up and call you blessed. May the law of 
kindness direct your tongue ; may wisdom guide the 
words of your mouth. The promises, the threatenings, 
the fear, the love, the commandments of God, teach 
them diligently unto thy children, and talk of them 
when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walk- 
est by the way, and when thou liest down, and when 
thou risest up." 

And, ye children, I have a message from God unto 
you. "My son, give me thy heart. The fear of the 
Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and to depart from 
evil is understanding. Remember thy Creator in the 
days of thy youth. Obey your parents in the Lord, 
for this is right. Honor thy father and mother." 

Behold that man educated in a system of faith, 
which represents God without mercy, and man without 
hope : he has been taught to consider himself as utterly- 
sinful, depraved, and worthless ; incapable of conceiving 
a good thought, or of doing a good action. This beau- 
tiful world, which the Creator called good and blessed, 
he views as the habitation of vices and diseases, dire in 
their nature, and destructive in their effects ; man, the 
creature of the same benevolent God, the offspring of 
one common father, he regards as a vessel of dishonor 
and of wrath ; the great majority of his fellow-beings 
he believes will be plunged in eternal and unutterable 
wo, to shew forth the praise of the glorious justice of 
their Maker ; and the infant, smiling in the lap of ma- 
ternal tenderness, he turns from as an object, for one 
man's crime, doomed to all the miseries of this life, to 
death itself, and to the pains of hell for ever. Is it any 



179 

wonder, if his creed be depicted in his countenance, if 
the kindly charities of humanity be blighted in his bo- 
som ? Is it a matter of surprise, that instead of believ- 
ing there are no riches above a sound body, and no joy 
superior to the joy of the heart, such an one should 
conceive religion to consist in austerity, and piety in the 
appearance of despair ? Filled with the sincerest feel- 
ings of compassion for such an one, I would say, " I have 
a message from God unto thee. Is it such a religion that 
I have chosen, for a man to afflict his soul ? Is it to bow 
down his head as a bulrush, and to spread sackcloth 
and ashes under his feet ? Wilt thou call this accept- 
able unto the Lord ? He that hath a merry heart hath 
a continual feast. Rejoice evermore : God is our Fa- 
ther ; God is love." 

Beside that individual, perhaps, is one, who, from 
the circumstances in which the good providence of his 
God has placed him, has had the happiness to receive 
the pure light of Gospel truth into his mind, and sin- 
cerely believes that the principles which adorn his faith 
are more simple and pure, more moral and benevolent, 
more calculated to make the conduct holy and the heart 
happy, than those which are generally entertained. 
Yet, strange to say, from some motive opposed to kindly 
feeling and christian benevolence, — for alien it assuredly 
is to christian precept and the christian spirit, — mani- 
fests no anxiety to uphold its' belief or to diffuse its 
blessings. He can behold the poor unfortunate, writh- 
ing in agony under a system, which distorts the finest 
affections of our nature, and yet can coolly pass by 
on the other side. He can acknowledge that the ten- 



180 

dency of the principles from whose contagion he has 
escaped, is pernicious and immoral, yet no feeling of 
gratitude to Heaven impels him to assist his afflicted 
brother. No ! such conduct, though agreeable to the 
natural dictates of the human heart, and confirmed by 
the solemn and oft-repeated injunctions of Jesus of Na- 
zareth, he neglects to practise, because perchance it 
will give him trouble, may entail on him reproach 
and obloquy, is unfashionable, and the world's dread 
laugh would follow ; or, as there are many persons whose 
feelings gain a righteous victory over their creeds, there- 
fore there are good men of all denominations, he would 
fain persuade himself that opinions, after all, are not of 
so much importance as some well-meaning, but over- 
zealous and over-benevolent people are apt to imagine. 
I deeply lament this spirit ; I think it more inimical to 
the world's improvement, than the sternest and sturdi- 
est bigotry. Happy indeed should I be, could I be in- 
strumental in rousing my fellow-creatures to a convic- 
tion of its fallacy, its evil, its incompatibility with the 
progress of man, the honor of God. Had this spirit 
been always prevalent, we had now been devoted to the 
See of Rome, and groaning under the yoke of a spiritual 
despotism ; nay, we had now been offering sacrifices to 
idols, instead of worshipping the all-gracious Father in 
spirit and in truth ; the reformation from popery would 
never have been effected, the Saviour would have had 
no. disciples, the thunders of Sinai would have passed 
unheeded. To those who, unhappily for themselves, 
and unhappily for all within the sphere of their influence, 
have imbibed this spirit, I would say, " I have a mes- 
sage from God unto you. I would you were either cold 



181 

or hot. Be zealous, therefore, and repent. Though 
zeal without knowledge be not good, yet with know- 
ledge it is good to be zealously affected alway in a good 
thing. Remember that while the husbandman slept, 
the enemy sowed tares." 

But look at this individual. Brought up from his 
earliest infancy in the fear of the Lord, he continues 
steadfastly in the path of duty. Ever since his mind was 
capable of examining and enjoying the works and won- 
ders of creation, he has been fully persuaded there is a 
God who ruleth in the earth. Understanding that his 
Maker had graciously superadded to the goodness which 
fills the universe with gladness, a direct revelation of 
himself to the creatures of his mercy, he carefully in- 
vestigates its nature and its evidences. Convinced 
from that examination that such is indeed the fact, he 
is anxious that all his thoughts and actions should be 
guided and hallowed by the precepts of the Gospel. 
He, therefore, sitteth not in the seat of the scorner, 
neither does he make a mock of religion. He ever pro- 
nounces with reverence the name of his Creator. He 
presumes not to erect himself into the judge of his fel- 
low-beings, and call down the condemnation of heaven 
upon the erring. For serious things he dares not com- 
mit the impiety, and for trifles he abhors such language. 
He refrains his tongue from speaking guile ; he is de- 
sirous never to be called a whisperer, for he knows that 
an evil condemnation awaits the double-tongued. He 
is faithful to his neighbor in his poverty, he rejoices 
with him in his prosperity, he abides steadfastly by him 
in the time of his trouble, he is never ashamed to vin- 
dicate his friend. He never blames before he has tho- 



182 

roughly examined the truth. He understands first, and 
then rebukes. Knowing that there is not a more 
wicked thing than a covetous man, for that such an one 
setteth his own soul to sale ; he puts not his trust in 
uncertain riches, but if he be wealthy, he giveth alms 
accordingly ; and if he have but little, as he has oppor- 
tunity, he doeth good unto all men. He will not, for 
any consideration, defraud the poor of his livelihood, or 
make the needy eyes wait long. Feeling that wisdom 
is glorious and never fadeth away, that she is easily seen 
of them that love her, and found of them that seek her, 
he searcheth the Scriptures diligently, daily, in order to 
ascertain for himfelf their genuine doctrines. Having 
found these, and longing to impart to others the happi- 
ness with which he is blessed, should he behold a brother 
man shackled in thought, and depressed in spirit, in 
consequence of the opinions which he entertains, he acts 
not towards him the part of the Levite, or the Priest. 
With affectionate zeal, he will endeavor to dispel the 
clouds which have gathered round the soul of the un- 
fortunate ; he will pour the balm of heavenly light and 
heavenly consolation into the wounds, with which false 
views of man and of God have lacerated his spirit ; he 
will send him on his way rejoicing in God's goodness 
and man's salvation. He also will be ever ready to bow 
down his ear to the poor, and to give him a friendly 
answer with meekness. He will exert his every power 
to deliver him that suffereth wrong from the hand of the 
oppressor. Steadily keeps he the onward path of duty. 
He will not be stayed from the work of benevolence by 
the marking frown of the tyrant, or the changeableness 
of the impetuous crowd. In every labor of love, in 



183 

every measure which has the slightest tendency to re- 
move the enormous mass of human misery, or to increase 
the sum of human happiness, he will give his helping 
hand, he will contribute according to the portion witn 
which God has blessed him. Who can adequately de- 
pict the joys which fill the bosom of such a righteous 
steward of the manifold bounties of the Almighty Parent ; 
who is equal to the task ? They may be felt : may it 
be your's to experience their blessedness ; they cannot 
be expressed. To him who thus nobly reflects the 
image of God, I would say, "I have a message from 
God unto thee. He that walketh uprightly, walketh 
surely. Be steadfast, immoveable, always abounding in 
the work of the Lord, and your labor will not be vain. 
Be faithful even unto death, and I will give thee the 
crown of life." 

May we all hear, may we all obey these messages of 
mercy, which our Father addresses to his various 
children. They are of God, and for good to all. Thus 
passing this first stage of existence, on the morning of 
the resurrection, on that great and solemn day, when 
the secrets of all hearts shall be judged, and the actions 
of every human being receive their appropriate recom- 
pense, when he who is to judge the w 7 orldin righteous- 
ness shall come in the glory of his Father, and shall say 
to each of us, " I have a message from God unto thee," 
Oh, may that message be thus expressed, " Well done, 
good and faithful servant; enter ye into the joy of your 
Lord." God in mercy grant the prayer. Amen. 



184 



PRAYER. 



All-gracious Father, to Thee would' we pour forth 
the thanksgivings of our hearts; for all that renders ex- 
istence a blessing is thy gift. Of Thee, and to Thee, 
and through Thee, are all things. Thou art creation's 
Author. At thy bidding did it arise. Thou hast 
clothed it in loveliness. Thou dost govern it in wisdom. 
It testifies of thy being and perfections. But not alone 
does it manifest thy glory. The earth is full of the 
riches of thy goodness ; but in the gospel of the blessed 
Jesus do we behold thy boundless, thy ineffable mercy. 
Oh, the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and 
knowledge of God ; how unsearchable are his judgments, 
and his ways past finding out ! Feeling our dependence 
upon Thee, our Creator, Preserver, and Benefactor, for 
life and breath and all things, conscious of imperfection, 
exposed as we are to temptations, and liable as we are 
to fall, earnestly would we seek thy favor, which is 
life, and thy loving-kindness which is better than life. 
We rejoice that thy unfailing goodness has provided a 
guide to our experience, and a light to our darkness, 
and a support to our infirmity. Thy commandment is 
exceeding broad. We would obey, that we may be 
blessed. May we ever reverence thy holy name, O 
God. May it be hallowed in our thoughts and words 
and actions. Supremely may we love Thee. At all 
times and in all circumstances, may that 'sacred love 
manifest itself in benevolence to man. May we place a 
guard upon our lips, that we offend not with our tongue. 
The charity which suffereth long and is kind, may that 



185 

be our's indeed and in truth. In worldly things, may 
equity and probity guide our dealings. Our integrity, 
never may it depart from us. May our hearts not re- 
proach us so long as we live. In simplicity and godly 
sincerity, may we have our conversation in the world. 
Grateful for the great and. benevolent objects, which the 
Saviour of mankind was raised up and sanctified to ac- 
complish, may our gratitude, be evidenced by humbly 
aiding the holy and righteous purpose. May it be our 
heart's delight to promote Christian knowledge and 
Christian purity. Ever may we be fervent in spirit, 
serving the Lord. In dispelling ignorance, in alleviating 
misery, in removing vice, in furthering the freedom and 
happiness of our fellow creatures, may we deem no la- 
bour toilsome. In well-doing, never may we be weary. 
As individuals, as families, in thought, in word, in con- 
duct, may we manifest that we have been with Jesus. 
May we show our conviction that life and immortality 
have been brought to light by the Son of God, by active 
and unceasing preparation for its blessedness. When 
the day of our departure draweth nigh, may it be in 
serenity and peace. May ours be the well-grounded 
expectation of an entrance to the mansions of purity 
and bliss. And when time shall be no longer, and the 
scenes of eternity shall have opened on our View, may 
we appear at the tribunal of our Maker, trusting in his 
mercy, and accepted in his goodness. In the name of 
Jesus we present our prayer, ascribing to Thee, holy 
Father, everlasting praises. Amen. 

24 • ; •'■ 



SERMON XII 



IT IS BETTER TO GO TO THE HOUSE OF MOURN- 
ING, THAN TO THE HOUSE OF FEASTING. 



Ecclesiastes vii. 2. 



"IT IS BETTER TO GO TO THE HOUSE OF MOURNING, THAN TO GO TO 
THE HOUSE OF FEASTING." 

It is good sometimes to go to the house of feasting. Nei- 
ther reason nor religion forbids that we should partake 
of the bounties bestowed by Providence, to cheer us on 
the journey of life, nor are we required to confine our- 
selves to a solitary enjoyment of them. Such a course 
would be more likely to debase the mind, and pro- 
duce a merely selfish and sensual spirit, than to nurse 
the soul in pure and noble affections. If we have im- 
bibed right principles of action, and have acquired the 
power to command our appetites, it is good to mingle 
occasionally in the cheerful festivities of social life, " to 
rejoice with those who rejoice ;" because the temperate 
enjoyment in which we shall then indulge, being asso- 
ciated with the presence of kind friends and dear rela- 
tives, will contribute to heighten those affections which 
are the charm and the ornament of domestic life ; and 
to cherish in our minds cheerful and grateful views of 
Xhe providence and bounty of Him, who " setteth the 



187 

solitary in families, and ordereth the bounds of our hab- 
itations." 

The testimony, however, of the writer of the Book 
whence our text is taken, (a person who evidently ex- 
presses the results of much experience and observation,) 
as well as the most impartial estimate we can form of 
man and of human life, assures us that though it may 
be good to go to the house of feasting, it is better to 
visit the house of mourning ; and it may be found an 
interesting and profitable exercise, to consider some of 
the circumstances on which this conclusion is founded. 

I. There is much less danger of receiving moral and 
spiritual injury when we visit the house of mourning, 
than when we participate in the festivities of life. It has 
been remarked, that to persons of established principles 
and confirmed habits of virtue, it may be not only inno- 
cent, but in some respects profitable, to go to the house of 
feasting. Without such principles and habits, it would 
be obviously dangerous in the extreme. The young and 
inexperienced, especially, if they have not been trained 
up in the ways of religion and virtue, if they have been 
left to the mercy of accident for the formation of their 
habits, are exposed to the most imminent danger, when, 
in the indulgence of their natural wishes for pleasure, 
they go forth in quest of social gratification. They 
will, in all probability,'make choice for their companions, 
not of the sober minded and prudent, of those whose 
views of social pleasure are rational, and who strictly 
keep within the limits of cheerful and innocent recrea- 
tion ; the votaries of frivolous dissipation or of licentious 
indulgence will present themselves, and the freedom 
from all restraint, the highly seasoned enjoyments which 



188 

they offer, will too often be preferred- Then, farewell 
to all hopes of virtue, of useful exertion, and of true 
happiness. The mind, degraded by the love of sensual 
pleasure, loses its capacity for elevated and ennobling 
pursuits. The finest talents are prostituted, and instead 
of being employed in honorable activity for the welfare 
of mankind, are dissipated in the flashes of licentious 
wit ; the kindest disposition and the sweetest temper, — 
the qualities which, if well directed, would have ena- 
bled their possessor to bless and to be blessed, — being 
perverted from their proper course, and unsupported by 
right principle, are rendered the occasion of mischief to 
their possessor. He has plunged into the whirlpool of 
vicious pleasure, and after a brief, space of giddy agita- 
tion, he is swallowed up in the abyss of destruction. 

Even the man of well-regulated mind and of estab- 
lished virtue needs the exercise of circumspection when 
he goes to the house of feasting. If he were to dedi- 
cate any large portion of his time to such enjoyments, 
they would not only interfere with the duties of life, 
but would tend to produce a dissipated frame of mind, 
to engross his attention, and to call off his thoughts 
from the realities of religion. In the limited degree of 
indulgence which alone is attainable or innocent, we 
find it necessary to be on our guard. The thorn of 
temptation lurks beneath the roses of social delight ; and 
the cup of pleasure, though sweet to the taste, is too 
apt to produce an intoxicating effect. When the ban- 
quet is spread before us, and the sounds of harmony 
float around ; when all without invites us to unrestrained 
enjoyment/ — then it is that we have especial need to 
listen to the voice of the monitor within, which warns 



189 

us to beware of excessive indulgence. How prone are 
the best of us, in such situations, to lose that solemn con- 
sciousness of the Divine presence, that high feeling of our 
moral destiny, and that noble superiority to merely sen- 
sual gratification, which our duty and our interest enjoin 
us at all times to maintain. How often do we find, 
when we review the temper in which we have passed 
through such scenes, that we have relaxed somewhat of 
our watchfulness, have in some degree exceeded the 
bounds of moderate indulgence, and have given way to 
dispositions, or have uttered expressions, , for which it 
becomes us to humble ourselves in the presence of 
Almighty God. 

To such dangers we are not exposed in the house of 
mourning. There the tendency to excessive and habi- 
tual levity, — the proneness to centre our affections on the 
good things of this life, — the disposition to forget our 
Maker and our eternal destiny, will, at any rate, not be 
fostered and encouraged ; and if our minds be at all sus- 
ceptible of solemn impressions, they are likely, in such 
circumstances, to be produced and rendered habitual. 

IL This leads to the remark, in the second place, that 
the house of mourning affords better means of improve- 
ment in religious and moral attainments than the house 
of feasting. Social affection, it is allowed, is strength- 
ened and increased by the participation of the blessings 
of life in common with others ; but the habit of visiting 
the afflicted, acts more powerfully upon the mind, in- 
calling forth our sympathy with our fellows, and cher- 
ishes in a higher degree the principle of benevolence. 

When we enter the house where sickness has set her 
mark, which the angel of death has been commissioned 



190 

"to visit; when we look upon the face which once beamed 
with gladness at our approach, now pale and emaciated 
with disease, or composed in the stern quietness of 
death ; when we witness the tears of the widow and 
■the sighings of the orphan children, which inadequately 
yet powerfully express the extent of their loss, and the 
depth of their unavailing wo, — then indeed, if there be 
within our bosoms one tender and sympathetic feeling, 
it must be excited into lively exercise ; if our hearts are 
.'Susceptible of one generous impulse, they must glow 
with the benevolent desire to alleviate the sufferings 
which we behold. The morbid sensibility, the selfish 
propensities of the heart, are powerfully counteracted 
amidst scenes of this kind. Our attention and our inter- 
est are called off from all petty and personal anxieties; 
we become so deeply engrossed by our concern for the 
sufferings and our desires for the welfare of the mourn- 
ers around us, that, for the time at least, we lose sight 
of ourselves, and are thus trained up towards a habit of 
pure and disinterested benevolence, and a disposition to 
surrender with cheerfulness our own ease and grati- 
fication, when the comfort of our fellow-creatures 
demands the sacrifice. 

The religious temper likewise may be greatly invig- 
orated, may be rendered more perfect and habitual, 
by the frequent visitation of the house of mourning. 
There, if ever, the solemn realities which, amidst the 
gay and the busy scenes of life, are so apt to lose their 
hold on the mind, are brought home to us in an im- 
pressive and effectual manner. There the frailty of 
man, and the insecurity of all earthly things, are not 
merely the subject of description, of distant foreboding 



191 

and apprehension, but assume a visible form, and are- 
placed distinctly before our eyes. We behold, as it 
were, the hand of the Most High stretched forth to- 
remove the sojourner in this world, to the house ap- 
pointed for all the living. We hear the awful voice, 
" Return, ye children of men ;" and nothing but the 
most callous indifference can prevent us from feeling a 
degree of solemnity and serious concern. At such 
times, the pleasures, the riches and the honors of this 
life are exhibited in their true character. The finger 
of death inscribes upon them all the expressive epithet, 
" Vanity ;" and if we have the wisdom to improve by 
the lesson, we shall learn to look upon them without in- 
ordinate affection, and to estimate them as nothing 
more than vain and perishable treasures. 

In the house of mourning, we are forcibly reminded, 
likewise, of the essential value of religion. We behold 
its cheering and supporting influence, when we enter 
" the chamber where the good man meets his fate ;" we 
perceive that its influences mitigate the pangs of disease, 
and supply strong consolation in the hour of need ; and 
that its glorious hopes are an ample compensation for all 
that sickness and death can take away. We gather the 
same instructive lesson, when we witness the painful 
spectacle of a dying hour unsupported and uncheered by 
the benign influence of religion. No sweet remem- 
brance of a life well spent, no humble confidence in a 
heavenly Father's love, no endearing recollection of the 
example, the word and promise of a Redeemer, no vigor- 
ous power of faith to carry the mind beyond the regions 
of the grave, and to inspire assurance of a blessed im- 
mortality, are there. Oh, who can think of such a 



. 192 

destitute condition in the hour of death ; still less, who 
can witness a human being in this calamitous state, and 
still resolve to live in carelessness or vice, to neglect 
the means of religion and virtue, to despise the warning 
voice of heaven and the affectionate invitations of Jesus, 
to treasure up for himself wrath against the, day of 
wrath, when the righteous judgment of heaven shall be 
revealed ! A similar contrast is presented in the con- 
dition of the sufferers under the bereaving dispensations 
of Providence, and it serves to confirm our conviction 
of the importance of piety to the soul of man. How 
grievous is the affliction which is unmitigated by the 
influence of a pious trust in the disposal of Heaven. 
When, after years of affectionate and endearing inter- 
course, the desire of our eyes is taken away, the prop on 
which our affections rested is withdrawn : how deep 
must be the gloom, the despair of our hearts, if we have 
not cherished the pious affections along with the social 
virtues ; if we have been so engrossed by the love of the 
creature, as to neglect our duty to the Creator, and have 
lived without the exercise of devotion, without the ha- 
bitual sense of dependence upon God. That is in truth 
the house of mourning, which is involved in the shad- 
ows and the darkness of death, without one ray of heav- 
enly light to dissipate the gloom : they are indeed be- 
reaved and destitute, who have lost their all of earth- 
ly comfort, and cannot look to heaven for consolation in 
their distress. 

When w T e visit the house of pious mourners, a very 
different scene is presented to us. They are, it is true, 
susceptible, deeply susceptible of the pangs produced by 
tearing asunder the bond of union ; and; in many instan- 



193 

ces, it is probable that the refinement and vigor of their 
social affections make them feel more acutely than 
others the stroke which separates kindred souls, and 
leaves a blank in the social circle. They grieve, but 
not as those who have no hope : though afflicted, they 
are not distressed ; though perplexed, they are not in 
despair ; they are cast down, but the vigor of their 
minds is not destroyed. They did not neglect religion 
when the blessings of life were poured out upon them ; 
they cultivated a devout communion with the Giver of 
all good in the season of prosperity ; they treasured up 
in their hearts the words of Jesus to guide them in all 
their conduct, and they now feel the power of religion 
to support the sinking spirit ; they can still approach 
the house of a heavenly Father, and find grace to help 
in the time of need ; the promises of their Saviour, and 
the memory of his patient endurance, are at hand, to 
suppress the risings of discontent, and to shed abroad 
in their minds a soothing and tranquillizing hope that 
all will yet be well. When we visit the abodes of such 
mourners as these, we may atonce learn to estimate right- 
ly the condition of our being, and to prepare for the tri- 
als of our faith and patience, which, sooner or later, we, 
like them, shall have to endure. 

III. It is better to go to the house of mourning than 
to the house of feasting, because we have greater oppor- 
tunities of usefulness ; we can exercise a more cheering 
and a more edifying influence in the former than in the 
latter case. When the social circle are met, and the light 
of joy is lifted high, it is but little that a single person can 
contribute to the sum of happiness enjoyed; but it is very 
different when we carry the beams of consolation into 
25 



194 

the house of darkness and of wo. Much has been said on 
the power of sympathy to relieve the load of suffering, 
and to diffuse through the soul of the mourner a calm 
and tranquil spirit ; and much may be said, without ex- 
ceeding the bounds of truth and moderation. 

One of the most painful feelings which weigh down 
the sufferer, when near and dear friends are torn away 
by the stroke of death, is that of loneliness and destitu- 
tion. When the objects of our fondest earthly affection 
are snatched from us, and the hopes which rested upon 
them are blighted forever, it is not surprising that, in 
the first moments of an overwhelming grief, we should 
feel as if we were left alone in the world. The main 
pillar of our strength is gone. The chief source of our 
enjoyment is closed up, and we naturally sink under the 
consciousness of weakness and deprivation. Then it is 
that we need the assiduous and delicate attentions of 
friendship. It is some relief to have the presence and 
the sympathy of our fellow mortals, to perceive in their 
looks the unaffected expression of tenderness, and to 
hear from their lips the accents of consolation. It is 
some alleviation, to be able to pour out the sorrows of 
the heart, to dwell upon the memory of the past, and to 
bewail the afflictions of the present hour, when we are 
conscious that our griefs are unfolded to those who will 
listen with sympathy, and will participate in our feelings. 
They become in some degree the depositaries of our sor- 
rows ; their attentions cheer us with the assurance that 
we have not lost all our interest in the affections of 
mankind ; and, bringing to us the visible form of com- 
fort, they become the representatives of heaven, to con- 
sole us with the cheering persuasion that we are not 
utterly deserted of God. 



195 

This degree of consolation is of great importance ; 
but this is not all that judicious friendship may do when 
it visits the house of mourning. Not to mention the 
opportunities of giving advice and assistance which then 
offer themselves, — and these opportunities ought by no 
means to be neglected, — something may be done in the 
way of direct consolation. In the first moments of be- 
reavement, indeed, while the mind is overwhelmed and 
confounded by the stroke of calamity, it may not be ad- 
visable to attempt to reason with grief, it may be best 
to suffer it to spend itself in the effusions of lamentation. 
A more collected state of mind, however, will soon be 
attained, and then the pious friend may hope to speak 
words of peace and of instruction Avith useful effect. 
Even to those who have cultivated religious principles 
and habits, the assistance of friendship may be useful, 
may be necessary. The feebleness of our nature ren- 
ders even the best of us liable to yield to excessive grief. 
Our proneness to attend exclusively to present impres- 
sions sometimes prevents us from raising our thoughts 
to the distant objects of faith and hope, and this is most 
likely to take place, when the impressions which engage 
our notice are vivid and painful. The truths of religion 
are not inscribed on the human mind as on the rock ; 
they are too often written as it were on the sand, and 
are in danger of being obliterated, when the full tide 
of calamity rushes upon us. Pious friendship comes in 
to counteract these injurious tendencies, imparts a por- 
tion of its own strength, wins the desponding soul from 
brooding over present suffering, to contemplate the dis- 
tant but glorious prospects of religion, and retraces, with 
careful finger, the decaying lines of piety on the pallet of 



196 

the heart. It is indeed sweet counsel which the virtu- 
ous are permitted to take together in such circumstances. 
The comforter can suggest to the mourner all the topics 
of consolation which religion affords ; can speak of a Fa- 
ther who afflicts but to improve ; of a Saviour who trod 
the path of suffering before us, and, touched with the 
feeling of our infirmities, hath left us in his gospel the 
words of consolation and good hope ; of a world beyond 
the grave, where those who in this life sow in tears, 
shall reap the eternal harvest of joy, in communion with 
the wise and good, with Jesus the Mediator of the new 
covenant, and with God the Judge and Father of all. 
Thus, though disease and death may scatter ruin around, 
the power of religion, when applied by the hand of af- 
fection, can " build up a pile of better thoughts," on 
which the mourner may repose his weary head and 
be at peace. 

It is a more difficult, but a still more needful work, 
to speak so as to edify those whom affliction has visited* 
and who have yet to commence their religious life, who 
have hitherto lived in ignorance or carelessness, or in 
vicious habits. The misfortunes which befal such per- 
sons, and especially the visitations of mortality, may 
be improved to the most important purposes, may be in- 
strumental in leading them to serious reflection, and to a 
thorough conversion from sin to holiness. Yet there is 
little chance that any such beneficial effects will be pro- 
duced, if the sufferers be left to themselves. They may 
grieve, but they will not repent ; they may become dis- 
satisfied with this world, but they will not learn to lay 
up treasures in heaven. They possess not within 
themselves a sufficient degree of religious knowledge, to 



197 

enable them to apply the lessons of wisdom, which afflic- 
tion teaches, to the improvement of their hearts and 
lives. The benevolent Christian must undertake the 
difficult attempt, and, in humble reliance on the divine 
blessing, must endeavor to lead their minds to better 
views, and to make a beneficial impression on their 
hearts. The insufficiency of the present world to make 
us happy, the folly and wickedness of devoting our 
hearts and lives to its vain and vicious pursuits, the 
mercy and loving kindness of God in the mission of Je- 
sus Christ, to bring us to repentance, to qualify us for 
pardon, and to assure his consistent followers of eternal 
felicity after the vanities of this life are vanished for- 
ever ; these and other important truths must be affec- 
tionately and plainly set before them in order that, if 
possible, their hearts, affected by calamity, may be im- 
pressed with deep conviction, — in order that they may 
perceive the folly of their past conduct, the wretched 
delusion in which they have indulged, may feel hum- 
bled and penitent before God, and may be disposed to 
seek his pardon and his help by prayer. " Brethren, 
if any do err from the truth, and one convert him ; let 
liim know that he who converteth a sinner from the 
error of his way, shall save his soul from death." Is 
not the chance, the possibility of such a reward to be 
eagerly sought after, especially when the sacrifice re- 
quired is neither costly nor dangerous ? Who that 
lt feels one generous spark within," would exchange the 
blessing of one prodigal son restored to the home and 
the affections of this heavenly Parent, for the gratifica- 
tion which may be derived from a thousand days spent 
in the house of feasting and of mirth ? 



198 

Shun not, then, the house of mourning, as you 
value your own spiritual and eternal interests, which 
may there be greatly advanced ; as you would prepare 
for the time when your own abode shall be visited by 
disease and death ; as you would then wish for the 
affectionate sympathy of others, and for the soothing 
recollection that you have not lived wholly in vain. 
Do not devote the days of health and strength to the 
pleasures of the world : seek out the sons and daughters 
of affliction ; endeavor to pour into their hearts the 
balm of consolation, and to lift their downcast eyes 
upwards toward heaven. Thus you may at once con- 
firm the power of religion in your own minds, and im- 
part its instructive and soothing influence to the hearts 
of the mourners ; and you shall be blessed. These, 
indeed, cannot recompense you, but you shall be re- 
compensed at the resurrection of the just. 

And you, who are dwellers in the house of mourn- 
ing, think it not strange concerning the affliction which 
has befallen you, as though some strange thing had 
happened unto you. If it be good sometimes to visit 
the house of mourning, be assured it may not be unpro- 
fitable for a season to abide there. Do you feel at times 
a disposition to murmur, and to say unto God, Why 
hast thou made me thus ? Banish such unreasonable 
discontent. Are you so perfect, have you attained to 
such a height of piety and virtue, that you need not the 
discipline of affliction P You cannot appeal to the great 
Searcher of hearts, and declare that you are so. You 
cannot look back on the course of your past lives, with- 
out perceiving, that, in many things, you have failed 
and come short of the devotion and obedience which 



199 

God justly requires. He hath now visited you with 
affliction, that he may purify your hearts, and bring you 
to himself. Humble yourselves before his mighty hand, 
lament in his presence your imperfection and trans- 
gressions, implore that pardon which you need, and 
which he communicates by Jesus Christ to all who truly 
repent. Supplicate his gracious aid to comfort and to 
support you in the way of duty ; then you may repose 
full confidence in him as a father and a friend, who 
chastens not for his own pleasure, but for our profit, 
that we may be partakers of his holiness, and even 
amidst the gloom of the house of mourning, you will be 
able to catch the beams of heavenly consolation, and to 
rejoice in the prospect of eternal life. 



PRAYER. 

Great God, and kind Father of us all, who hast 
bound thy children together by the bonds of common 
suffering, as well as of common joys ; we entreat Thee 
so to aid and so to guide us, that we may make both 
conduce to our present and eternal welfare. Innumer- 
able are thy ways of doing thy creatures good. Thou 
inspirest their mind with wisdom ; Thou fillest their 
bosoms with joy ; the countenance shines by reason of 
the rays of thy favor, and the frame is full of energy 
because Thou pervadest it. Soon are they minished 
and brought low by affliction, disease and sorrow. The 
face is darkened, the body languid, and the home and 
the hearth rilled with grief and wailing. Yet in each 



200 

dispensation Thou art alike kind, alike beneficent. In 
each may we learn wisdom ; both by what we suffer, 
and what we enjoy. May joy and sorrow serve only to 
unite our hearts more closely together, and fix them 
firmly on Thee and eternity. And while our sympa- 
thies are exercised steadily, mildly, yet fervently, to- 
wards those of our own household, lead us, we pray 
Thee, to weep with those who weep, and to rejoice with 
those who rejoice, in the abodes where poverty and sin 
double the common evils of our human condition. Hear 
us, for thy mercy's sake ; forgive, answer, and bless. 
Amen. 



SERMON XIII. 



SHAME OF THE GOSPEL REPROVED 



Romans i. 16. 

"i AM NOT ASHAMED OF THE GOSPEL OF CHRIST." 

It seems at first strange that Paul should have deemed 
this declaration necessary, and that any person should 
exist who could not use the same words. Who can 
be ashamed of being the disciple of a master, whose 
life was a model of every virtue, whose morality is so 
perfect, whose doctrine is so sublime and so honorable 
to human nature ? Who can blush at a religion, of 
which God declared himself the author ; which he an- 
nounced in the words of prophecy ; which he signalised 
by numberless wonders ; which he established by mira- 
cles ? Who would not take a pride in the gospel, which, 
partaking of the eternity of its author, has triumphed 
over all obstacles, beaten down Paganism and its false 
gods, has survived errors, opinions, systems of every 
kind, to which the human mind has given birth ; which, 
during eighteen centuries, has only multiplied its 
strength, and extended its happy influence ; which, at- 
26 



202 

tacked by ignorance, by philosophy, and by the most 
active passions, has successfully resisted all, has con- 
founded all its enemies, has seen generations pass away, 
empires become extinct, the proudest works of man fall 
before the ravages of time, and remained itself uninjur- 
ed ? But when we call to mind that this gospel was 
rejected with disdain by the two classes of people to 
whom it was first preached; that it was a stumbling 
block to the Jews and foolishness to the Greeks ; that 
it drew on them who announced it only contempt and 
derision : especially, when we consider with how many 
dangers the Apostolic ministry was surrounded ; when 
we see Paul calumniated, outraged, persecuted every 
where, dragged from tribunal to tribunal, quitting one 
prison only to be cast into another, here stoned, there 
beaten, exposed in a third place to wild beasts, and in 
this w r ay proceeding to the martyrdom which was to 
terminate his painful career, — we understand that there 
was some courage in the assertion of the Apostle, " I 
am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ," and all that 
it implied in his mind. 

Abundant reason have you to thank God, my 
brethren, that your attachment to Christianity is not at 
present put to these severe trials. The title of Christian 
no longer exposes him who bears it to martyrdom. We 
are not under the necessity, as were the ancestors of 
most of us two centuries since, of flying far from our 
country, to acquire the opportunity of professing freely 
the pure gospel of Christ : and difficult, at first, is it to 
conceive, for what reason we can be ashamed of it. 
But we are liable to another kind of persecution. We 
live in an age when it is necessary to have, I had almost 



203 



said, courage, in order not to be ashamed of Jesus Christ, 
and in order to profess his religion. Since philosophy, 
wandering in its proud thoughts, and disallowing the 
obligations under which it lies to the Christian religion, 
has, with a view to oppose it, formed a league with the 
world ; since peculiar circumstances have favored, in a 
surprising manner, their common efforts, Christianity is 
scarcely any longer attacked by reasonings, which are 
as difficult to employ, as they are known to be power- 
less ; but it, and its friends, are assailed by a more c - 
venient, perhaps a more dangerous- weapon, * \veap<, ; 
which the meanest h ' L mean ridicule. 

Mockery and d fi? nt against that 

holy religion, v'xu y other foe, and 

efforts p.-jc made to reduce' its professors to a disgraceful 
silence, by turning against tl t of contempt, 

'ocorn, yes insult. For ^son they ought to 

raise their voice, in its favor I or that very reason they 
ou^ht to avow their faith befoie men. For that very 
reason they ought to exclaim with Paul, " I am not 
led of the Gospel of Christ ;" and to prove it by 
their conduct. In what does this duty consist, and how 
do we fulfil it ? This is the subject on which I am about 
to speak. 

To lead you to understand at one view, what, in this 
matter, the Christian's duty is, especially at the present 
time, I need to address to you but one question. What 
is the conduct of an upright man— what have you your- 
selves done, when you have seen in the world your friend, 
your benefactor, a master who is dear to you, exposed 
to reproaches, censures or derision, which you thought 
unjust ? Did it ever occur to you to join your voice to 



204 

that of his enemies ? No ; should you in consequence 
have suffered disgrace, contempt, the most mortifying 
derision, not even the thought of such a baseness would 
have entered your mind. What honorable anger bursts 
from your eyes, how ardently you wish to reply, to 
justify your friend, to confound his detractors. The 
fear of injuring him in so doing stops you ; but all see 
that it was not a base shame that sealed your tongue 
—that you could with difficulty restrain your indigna- 
tion — that nothing but the interest of your friend kept 
vou back. Your gestures, your looks, your impatience, 
all spoke on his behalf, tnoji^h your tongue was mute. 
Even your adversaries understood what you meant. And 
when prudential considerations no longer- compelled you 
to be silent, with what eagerness did you hasten to re- 
move the injurious impressions which their discourse 
might have left on the minds of those who had heard it , 
with what praiseworthy ardor did you plead his cause ; 
and still, at present, with what zeal do you seize the least 
occasions to speak in detail of his merits, and to infuse 
into the minds of others the esteem towards him which 
you feel yourself, without fearing lest your friendship 
should be turned into ridicule, or that his enemies or 
your own should make it a subject, of jesting. Such 
has more than once been your conduct ; such at least is 
the conduct of an honorable man, in regard to a friend 
unjustly accused or scoffed at in the world. Now is 
not the Lord Jesus Christ your best friend, your gene- 
rous benefactor, the kindest of masters ? There are 
people who have no other sentiment towards him but in- 
difference. He has also enemies, and unfortunately in 
too great a number. The first do not know him ; the 



205 

second have prejudices against him; others are too 
corrupt to love him. Nearly all of them unite to assail 
with scoffing, him who declares himself the disciple of 
Jesus, and takes up the defence of his cause, You will 
be led to have intercourse with such persons in the 
world ; you will then see actions, you will hear conver- 
sation, contrary to his Gospel. You will be, perhaps, 
the only one on his side. What will you then do ? I 
have just showed you. If you are a Christian, if you 
are not cowardly, if you are not ashamed of Jesus Christ, 
in the first place you will not turn against him ; second- 
ly, you will undertake his defence ; thirdly, you will 
seize with eagerness, you will even create opportunities 
to express the pride you feel in being his disciple, and 
laboring for the extension of his empire. Let us enter 
into some details on each of these three ideas. 

First Reflection. " Do not follow a multitude to 
do evil :" this is the first duty that you ought to fulfil if 
you are not ashamed of the Gospel. This duty admits 
of no exception. A friend may be excusable for not 
having spoken in favor of his friend, who had been 
unjustly censured ; but to join with his enemies, to act 
in opposition to his interests, never : even the world 
would regard one who so acted as the basest of men. 
Yes, even if, with your fear of ridicule greater than 
it is, you should become the sport of a numerous 
company ; be exposed to the most mortifying scoffs, 
and that before persons in whose esteem you desired to 
take the highest rank ; should wit, fortune, rank, take 
up arms to punish you for your resistance, still you 
would be inexcusable, if you said or did through fear 
any thing opposed to the laws of the Gospel : — this is 



206 

evident. But evident as this duty is, far removed also as 
it is from evangelical perfection, do you discharge it ? 
Have you always discharged it ? I know there are some 
in this assembly who have never failed ; I also know that 
a cowardly deference to the world has not drawn you 
into serious faults ; at least I cannot deny myself the 
pleasure of so believing ; — but has it never rendered you 
faithless to Jesus Christ on occasions of less importance ? 
Recal to your mind that, company, when, in the midst 
of a boisterous joy, remarks were made contrary to chris- 
tian purity ; you suffered in your soul I know, and were 
therefore silent. This was noticed. You were bantered 
on your innocence ; joked on your modesty, and your ig- 
norance of evil. You blushed; you tried, in order to 
turn the derision aside, to assume the tone of those with 
whom you were ; you compelled your lips to smile at 
conversation which you condemned ; your tongue labor- 
ed to utter words which you detested in your heart. 
In that moment you were ashamed of the Gospel of 
Christ. This was seen. Applauses were given, not to 
you, but for the victory gained over your christian purity. 
When, without forethought, you were drawn to that 
table, over which cupidity presided, and became by turns 
joyous and sad, under the influence of blind chance ; 
you groaned in your soul to see men of sense waste in 
an amusement, which every day ruins families, that 
time, the shortness of which is so often the subject of 
their complaints. You were invited to take a part in 
this guilty pleasure ; — you feared lest you should be 
taxed with singularity, lest the strictness of your prin- 
ciples should be turned into ridicule, lest you should be 
accused of affectation or avarice, and these miserable 



207 

fears gained a victory over your virtuous repugnance : — 
you were ashamed of the Gospel of Christ. 

And why, my christian brethren, is it, that though 
you respect religion in your hearts, you do not come 
into our holy assemblies so often as you ought; that you 
enter them without any mark of respect ; that you bring 
with you sometimes an absent mind — a mind discordant 
from the objects treated of; that, after having heard a 
discourse which made an impression on your heart, you 
endeavor to appear not to have felt its force, lest, as 
you fear, your piety should be turned into ridicule, and 
you yourself set forth as having become a religionist, 
and as a person of a weak mind ? On such occasions 
you sny to the world, " I prefer thy applauses to those 
of my conscience ; thy approbation to that of my master ; 
thy favor to his. I fear more to displease thee than 
to offend him." That baseness the Saviour has seen ; 
he heard that language ; he cast a look of pity on you ; 
he turned aside from your ingratitude. Oh ! is this 
what he was authorized to expect from you ? Ought 
he not to have hoped, that instead of your joining the 
ranks of his foes, you would have undertaken his de- 
fence against them ? 

Second Reflection. " He that is not with me, is 
against me," said our Lord ; and the second duty of him 
who is not ashamed of being a Christian, is to engage in 
the defence of the Gospel, when he hears remarks which 
tend to throw doubt on its divinity, to contradict its 
doctrines, or to weaken its morality. I do not mean 
that you are at liberty to rise up with bitterness against 
those who make them ; to give the reins to your anger ; 
to reprimand them sharply for the notions they advance. 



208 

Christian charity, that mild patient charity which is not 
easily offended, forbids entirely such conduct. You are 
called to live in the world, and in the world you ought 
to exert a beneficial influence by your example and your 
works. Such conduct would banish you from it ; would 
render your piety hateful ; and the angry zeal of some 
Christians has done more evil to Christianity, than the 
language of infidelity which they wished to oppose. 
Nor do I mean that you should set yourselves up for 
censors of all the actions and conversations which you 
may witness ; that, on the least occasion, the moment 
you have heard a remark, a word, perhaps inconsider- 
ately uttered, which appears to be injurious to the prin- 
ciples of Christianity, you should think it a duty to 
expose it, to crush it with the whole might of truth. 
No ; this would be affectation ; this would convert the 
easy conversations of friendship into pedantic disputes. 
There is a christian modesty which ought to adorn all 
the virtues of the disciple of Jesus Christ, and render 
him amiable in every one's estimation. It ought to be 
the ornament, especially, of young people, whom on so 
many accounts it befits. Whatever their intelligence 
and virtue may be, they ought, whenever they think 
themselves called to defend their religion, above all 
should it be against persons more advanced in life than 
themselves, to speak without affectation ; with reserve ; 
with humility ; with those courteous precautions which 
may render their observations useful, and lead their 
elders to pardon that superiority, which he always has 
who pleads the cause of truth and virtue over him who 
attacks them. But if persons indulge before you in ob- 
servations opposed to morality, or to the respect which 



209 

is due to Jesus Christ ; if they advance ideas contrary to 
his teachings, then, whatever your age, whatever your 
condition, you will be blamed by no one for refuting 
them ; for refuting them forcibly, yes, and warmly, 
provided you do not exceed the limits of Christian mild- 
ness and modesty. This is a duty from which you 
cannot exonerate yourself, if you are not ashamed of the 
Gospel of your Saviour. You were some time since in 
an assembly, where religion became the subject of con- 
versation. At first it was spoken of with some reserve, 
— only doubts were put forth as to its divinity. Soon, 
however, it was openly attacked. Those who hold it 
were derided. Its miracles, its doctrines furnished 
topics for a crowd of ingenious jests ; its truths were 
burlesqued, even its morality was not spared. You 
suffered internally at this licentious impiety. You could 
not, without secret indignation, hear the objects of your 
faith and respect degraded ; you ardently desired to see 
these abominable remarks put an end to ; you cast an 
anxious eye on all that were present, in the hope that 
some one would rise and reply. No advocate appeared. 
You kept silent, without giving any sign of dissatisfac- 
tion. Why were your lips sealed ? Why did you allow 
religion to be degraded in your presence ? Why did 
you not speak on behalf of your Lord ; declare your- 
self openly his disciples ; boldly defend his cause ? And 
why say, by your silence, ' I know not the man. 5 
Alas ! the reason is, you were ashamed of his Gospel. 
You were afraid of bringing on yourself that torrent of 
indecent mockery. An unpardonable shame prevented 
you from doing your duty. 

But you reply, "It would have been useless ; they 
27 



210 

were professed infidels ; no arguments could have changed 
their minds. I should only have redoubled their im- 
pious zeal." I know that prudence is a Christian vir- 
tue : that regard must he had to circumstances. I 
know that Jesus Christ said emphatically to his disci- 
ples, " Give not that which is holy to the dogs ; do not 
cast pearls before swine." I know that there are men 
who are bold enough to avow infidelity ; who speak of 
Christianity only to dispute, to assail it, to make it the 
object of their senseless scorn : that there are others who, 
buried in corporeal pleasures, dead to every lofty senti- 
ment, smile at the very words " faith " and " virtue," 
and believe in that only which strikes their dull senses ; 
that you would try in vain to bring them back to religion ; 
that they are unwilling to examine its evidences ; that 
they are unable to feel its sublimity ; and that in setting 
its proofs before them, however well, you would only ex- 
pose sacred things to fresh contumely. But even if 
those who used or those who appeared to approve this 
language with which you have been disgusted, had been 
all of that character, was it on that account necessary 
that, by your silence, you should give them reason to 
believe that you were like them, or that you thought 
with them. If you were not ashamed of the Gospel of 
Christ, could you not have made it known ? If it had 
been imprudent to defend him boldly, had you not a 
hundred means of showing your veneration for him ; to 
declare your convictions ? Might you not have asked 
them to discontinue remarks which were offensive to 
you? Could you not, in withdrawing, show the dis- 
satisfaction which they gave you ? Or, if that was im- 
possible, could you not, by a disapproving silence, by 



211 

your countenance, by a gesture, by a look, full of vir- 
tuous dignity, scatter these impious words, and prove 
emphatically that you were not an accomplice ? There 
is a crowd of expedients which the good man finds in 
his bosom, and which he may employ without wounding 
humility, charity, or prudence, in order not to defile his 
soul in his intercourse with the impious; in order not 
to be identified with them ; in order to avenge the in- 
juries of virtue or religion. No ; we should not be 
deficient in them, had we to defend a friend. What do 
I say ? We have always an abundance of them in re- 
serve, to exonerate a man of the same party as ourselves 
from faults of which we know he has been guilty ; but 
for Thee, my Saviour, my Master, for thee, who hast 
redeemed us, who requirest of us nothing but what is 
just ; thee, who art never served in vain, we abandon to 
thy enemies ; we have neither arms, nor strength, nor 
courage to defend thee against them ; but we hold our 
peace ; we basely cast down our head in their presence ! 
No need is there of surprise after this, that we allow to 
escape, that we never create, opportunities to glory in 
our faith, and to extend its influence. 

Third Reflection. " I believed, therefore have I 
spoken," said David. In fact, out of the abundance of 
the heart the mouth speaketh ; and if we were not 
ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, if we gloried in it as 
we ought to do, we should more frequently make it the 
subject of our conversation. Look at the warrior in the 
service of a monarch. Not only does he not permit any 
one to speak ill of his master in his presence, but he 
ceases not to praise him on every occasion ; to extol his 
smallest excellencies, and to boast of his power before all 



212 

the world. Not that the Gospel should furnish the matter 
for every conversation ; not that you should bring it in 
on every topic ; not that you should mingle the name 
of Jesus Christ in profane talk. This would indeed be 
misplaced affectation. But when there arises a natural 
opportunity for expressing some thought, pious in itself 
and honorable to the Gospel, why should we not avail 
ourselves of it ? People speak of the successful efforts 
that have been made to soften and eventually to abolish 
slavery ; why should you not say, since such is your 
conviction, that the Gospel first promulged the grand 
principles of a wise freedom, of natural equality ; that 
to it we owe the diminution of that multitude of slaves 
which covered the earth when it was announced ; that 
one of the first acts of the heathen converted to Chris- 
tianity, was the emancipation of his slaves. The con- 
versation turns on the rights and duties of man in so- 
ciety ; why should you not remark, since the thought 
was on your mind, that the most simple, the most com- 
prehensive, the most generally true declaration that has 
ever been uttered, is that of Jesus Christ : " Do unto 
others, as ye would that others should do unto you." 

A father says to his children, " Be upright ; never 
allow yourselves to do any thing contrary to honor ; 
labor with all your power to become independent; 
avoid excess, which would prove your ruin ; avoid bad 
company, which would destroy your character ; be mild, 
obliging to every one." Excellent instructions, doubt- 
less ; but why should he not add, " In rendering to men 
their due, do not forget what you owe to your Saviour : 
you will find in the world customs and manners hostile 
to his, but ever take the Gospel as your guide. In la- 



213 

boring for the earth, labor also for the celestial in- 
heritance, which he purchased for you by his blood ; in 
endeavoring to increase your knowledge, grow also in 
the knowledge of Jesus Christ, without which every 
other kind of information is only ignorance and dark- 
ness ; be distinguished by your faith, your piety, still 
more than by talents ; for there is no real greatness, but 
such as rests on religion." 

These, among a crowd of others, are some instances 
of natural opportunities which a Christian, who is not 
ashamed of the Gospel, may seize on, in order to extend 
its empire. Every person in society speaks, and that 
without incurring blame, of what interests him ; — 
the merchant, of his enterprises ; the citizen, of his 
country. Why should not you also seek to create fe- 
licitous opportunities to show forth your convictions ? 
Why do you not sometimes hallow your conversations, 
by calling up what Jesus Christ has done for you ; the 
condition in which you would have been, without his 
aid ; the lofty hopes he has given us, and which he will 
convert into reality after the termination of our present 
being ? " Alas ! " you say, " I should be turned into 
ridicule ; I should be charged with hypocrisy ; I should 
be termed an extravagant religionist." I understand 
your meaning. You would consent not to mingle your 
voice with that of the foes of religion, to fight against 
it ; that brings no hostility from the world. Nay, the 
world itself has proscribed, as contrary to the laws of 
good breeding, all language that is hostile to religion. 
You even resolve, when a favorable opportunity is pre- 
sented, to put an end to them ; to show how much they 
displease you. This is not unbefitting a certain worldly 



214 

dignity. But to avow your faith, to glory in it, to seize 
or create opportunities to extol the excellence of the 
Gospel, — this seems to you too dangerous ; this would 
break up that prudent, neutrality in which you invest 
yourself; this would expose you to the sarcasms of the 
impious ; the doubt, whether or notyou were a Christian, 
would exist no longer. Ah, since you are so much afraid 
to be thought such ; since you are so much ashamed of 
this title, renounce all the privileges which it secures to 
you ; renounce the glory of being a chili of God ; of 
being immortal ; the heir of eternal felicity. And Jesus 
also will disown you. As you fear so greatly the rail- 
ing of the world ; as it has so great an influence over 
you ; as you look on the loss of its favors as so terri- 
ble an evil, give yourself up entirely to it; devote 
yourself wholly to its service ; join with it against Jesus 
Christ. Soon therefore will the world, before which you 
tremble, remove the mask with which you cover your- 
self, and expose to the laughter of its idolaters that face 
which blushed at the Gospel. Yet close your eyes to the 
proofs of divinity which shine in the Gospel ; forget the 
excellence of its morality, the sublimity of its doctrine ; 
efface from your heart every feeling of gratitude ; be 
insensible to what your Saviour has done for you ; de- 
clare yourself against him before the impious ; and thus 
earn their praise. 

Oh ! my brethren, shall these be our sentiments ; 
shall this be our conduct ? Shall we carry baseness to 
this extent ? Shall we, in reality, be ashamed of th,e 
Gospel ? What ! not to turn against Jesus Christ ; to 
undertake his defence ; to seek the extension of his em- 
pire ; — is this being righteous overmuch ? is this a du- 



215 

ty too difficult for the Christian to perform ? No ; they 
would not have found it burdensome ; they would have 
fulfilled it with joy. Our ancestors I mean ; those who 
preferred to give up every thing, rather than conceal 
their belief. They came, through the greatest perils, 
to seek here for themselves and their children a land 
where they might serve God in purity, before Heaven 
and men. Yes, sleep in your tombs, generous disciples 
of Jesus Christ : wait there in peace for the recom- 
pense which is your due. With what lively grief, with 
what deep indignation, would many of you be seized, 
if, restored to the earth, you could see the inheritors of 
your name dishonor it by their conduct. You thought 
it a glory to be the disciples of Jesus Christ; and they 
are ashamed of him. You sacrificed country, repose, 
fortune, rather than renounce your faith ; and they re- 
fuse, in so honorable a cause, to expose themselves to 
the senseless laughter of scoffers. You braved proscrip- 
tions and the chains of tyranny for the sake of religion ; 
and they have not the courage even to rise superior to 
ridicule. They are ashamed of the truth ; they covet 
the reputation of the impious. 

How humiliating is this contrast between our con- 
duct and that of our fathers ! What contemptible base- 
ness do many Christians among us render themselves 
guilty of! What ! shall vice walk abroad with a lofty 
bearing, and virtue be compelled to cast down her eyes 
when they meet ? Shall sinners omit to seek the appro- 
bation of the man of rectitude ; shall they make a trophy 
even of their guilt ; and the good man fear their deris- 
ion, and not dare to glory in the gospel ? What ! im- 
piety increases, spreads, threatens to invade every 



216 

thing ; and Christians will not rouse from their sleep, 
will not devote themselves to oppose its ravages. Ah, 
Christians, men of God ! I summon you in the name of 
the religion of jour country, in the name of your ances- 
tors and of your offspring, form a league in favor of 
piety. Fly not ; combine ; draw close your ranks ; 
assail the enemy ; regain the lost ground. Ministers 
of Jesus Christ, never let us be ashamed of the Gospel. 
Let us not be terrified, either by the discredit into 
which religion seems to. have fallen ; or by the ridicule 
with which its enemies would overwhelm us ; or by the 
injurious epithets by which we are sometimes address- 
ed ; or by the perils we may run. Let us redouble our 
ardor, our firmness, in the same degree as difficulties 
increase. Let each, in his place, fight courageously, 
under the standard of the Gospel; let him be inspirited 
by the look and the applause of all the rest. Let the 
father of a family employ his experience and his ardor 
in the defence of piety. Let Christian females maintain 
it with all their influence. Youth, consecrate to it 
your energy and your courage : to you the Gospel turns 
its eyes. We conjure you, disappoint not its hopes. 
Let us all, united, favor the ascendancy of virtue ; of 
Christian resistance, against bad examples, bad princi- 
ples, bad maxims. 

Happy he, who shall have fought the good fight! 
Happy he, who shall not have been ashamed of the Gos- 
pel ; who never sat in the seat of scorners, and who has 
preferred the title of Christian to every earthly glory ! 
Happy he, who protesting by his conduct against the 
looseness of the age, has walked with firmness in the 
way which God has marked out for him ; who, 



217 

braving the mad laughter of the impious, has not feared 
to undertake in their presence the defence of the Gos- 
pel, and to plead its cause. Thou wilt in thy turn ac- 
knowledge him before thy Father, O my Saviour ; thou 
wilt call him thy faithful servant ; thou wilt encircle his 
head with an immortal chaplet ; and thou wilt proclaim 
his name in the assembly of the just, who will rise on 
seeing him appear. O may this be your conduct; may 
this also be your reward. 



PRAYER. 

Almighty God ! absolute Sovereign of all that 
breathes, we prostrate ourselves before Thee under a 
deep sense of thy greatness, and of our littleness ; of thy 
holiness, and of our corruption. Thou reignest, Sove- 
reign Spirit; on thy lofty throne thou boldest the reins 
of the universe : thou seest at thy feet the torrent of 
time hurry all things into destruction : the mightiest 
monarchs descend into the tomb ; the shaking and the 
dissolution of empires. Thou only livest for ever ; thy 
empire changes not ; heaven and earth will pass away, 
but thy word will not pass away. Who would not fear 
Thee, O King of the nations ! who would not tremble 
at the idea of thy power ; who would presume to op- 
pose Thee, to transgress thy laws ? Yet, alas for our 
blindness and folly ! our fellow-creatures, beings as frail 
as ourselves, who exist to-day and to-morrow are no 
more, have more influence over us than Thou, and their 
laws seem to us more to be feared than Thine ; we de- 
28 



218 

sire io please them, rather than to be approved of Thee ; 
the fear of their judgment or their mocking hinders us 
too often from professing thy gospel, from obeying thy 
commands. O, Great God ! we humble ourselves in 
the dust at the thought. At thy feet we feel how guil- 
ty we are. By that mercy which thou didst send thy 
Son to offer to repentant sinners, we implore Thee aid 
us to emancipate ourselves from this weakness which 
we abhor. Let us be pervaded with the feeling of thy 
greatness 5 fill us with the fear of thy judgments, that 
henceforward we may fear to offend Thee before all 
things ; that the desire of pleasing Thee may become 
the first desire of our hearts ; so that nothing may pre- 
vent us from acknowledging Thee before men, and from 
acting as we shall wish to have done, when we are 
about to appear before thy throne. Hear us for thy 
mercy sake, through Jesus Christ. Amen. 



SERMON XIV. 



THE PARABLES. 



Matthew xiii. 34, 35. 

ALL THESE THINGS SPAKE JESUS TO THE MULTITUDE IN PARABLES, 
AND WITHOUT A PARABLE HE SPAKE NOT UNTO THEM; SO THAT IT 
WAS FULFILLED WHICH WAS SPOKEN BY THE PROPHET, SATING, I 
WILL OPEN MY MOUTH IN PARABLES, I WILL UTTER THINGS WHICH 
HAVE BEEN KEPT SECRET FROM THE FOUNDATION OF THE WORLD." 



The Parables are unquestionably, among the most 
striking and beautiful characteristics of the New Testa- 
ment; a characteristic, which peculiarly distinguishes 
the Saviour's manner of instruction, and leaves a more 
distinct and indelible impression upon the mind of the 
reader than any other. They convey so many impor- 
tant lessons by so many lively images, that were the 
heart less warmed by the excellent spirit which they 
breathe, the mind would be carried away by admiration 
of the skill and genius displayed in their contsruction. 
So full are they of beauties and instruction, that ample 
and valuable matter for a discourse might be found in 
illustrating the meaning and enforcing the moral, which 
each parable contains. Accordingly, almost every 
teacher of religion thinks his labor well bestowed in 



220 

enlarging upon the topics which they severally suggest, 
and developing the important truths which they em- 
body. It requires, however, the hand of no mean 
artist to preserve the beautiful proportions, and the de- 
licacy and truth of coloring, so peculiar to these perfect 
gems, while painting on that larger scale which may be 
needful to give to less discerning or attentive eyes a just 
idea of their value and importance. In some instances, 
indeed, they need considerable explanation. They re- 
quire an' attentive consideration of the circumstances 
which occasioned them, and of our Lord's principal 
objects in their delivery, by no means obvious at a hasty 
glance, to enable the reader to enter fully into their 
meaning and design. But, in general, what can be add- 
ed to them with effect ? Who would attempt to teach, 
more forcibly than the picture of the good Samaritan 
does teach, what it is to be a neighbor unto a fellow 
being ? Who would hope to improve upon the descrip- 
tion of the unhappy prodigal ; or to illustrate, more 
beautifully than that parable does illustrate, the willing- 
ness of our heavenly Father to receive the returning 
penitent into favor ? Bold, profane, I may say, must 
be the hand which would touch these master-pieces with 
the hope of increasing their effect. They need no illus- 
tration. Additions would be incumbrances. They 
speak for themselves and to the heart. All that the 
best distributor of the word of life can do, is to echo, 
with his utmost force, the words, " whoso hath ears to 
hear, let him hear." 

In the observations which I now intend to offer, I 
shall take for granted your familiarity with these well 
known parts of the sacred writings. But though you 



221 

may know well the structure and design of all the par- 
ables, and though I may be unable to add any new force 
to the lessons which they inculcate, I have thought that 
something may perhaps be said upon them as a whole ; 
upon the nature of this method of instruction, upon the 
reasons why our Lord adopted it, and the unrivalled 
excellence which he manifests in it, calculated to give 
you a new interest in their perusal, and to display, in a 
new light, the character and qualities of the Founder 
of our faith. I am not without hope, that by attempt- 
ing this I may add to your stock of motives for respect- 
ing and prizing the scripture narrative, and consequent- 
ly to your inducements for taking its spirit more and 
more home to your hearts and lives. 

There is in this parabolic style of instruction a pecu- 
liar fitness to impress the mind. The very accuracy 
with which we ourselves remember the parables, and 
the clearness with which their lessons are brought home 
to our feelings and conceptions, prove its excellence and 
the wisdom of its adoption. 

In ancient and modern times, wherever literary taste 
has prevailed, the fable has been a favorite mode of 
conveying moral instruction. The liveiy imagery of nar- 
rative is found to relieve the dryness of moral max- 
im, and to give zest to the intrinsic value of sober 
truth. That abstract wisdom which is clothed in a fa- 
miliar image, or illustrated by a simple example, comes 
before the mind in a more distinct and palpable form. 
And so beautifully has the Creator connected together 
the natural and moral world, that the analogies between 
them, whence the mind can draw delightful hints for 
its instruction, are inexhaustible ; analogies, such as. 



222 

that of which our Saviour has availed himself in the 
parable of the Sower, where the seed, with its various 
produce, illustrates so naturally and forcibly the effects 
of his word upon the heart. Images of this kind help 
us exceedingly in the retention of truths which would 
otherwise slip from the memory ; and imagination, that 
noble faculty, which some are apt to indulge with such 
idle wantonness, is then performing its real duty, is 
then engaged in the worthiest service, when shedding 
its own bright and beautiful hues upon the objects 
which reason wishes to contemplate with steadiness and 
fervor. Observe too, that a chain of abstract reason- 
ing is lost upon the untutored multitude. For them, 
logical definitions only darken the subjects which they 
are meant to illustrate. But they listen with emotion 
to a simple tale, till it becomes almost a part of their 
being. They remember its incidents with distinctness, 
and reason from them with precision. Does it add 
nothing then to your opinion of the wisdom of the Sa- 
viour, " the teacher of mankind," " that he spake to the 
multitude in parables ?" Would he have stood higher 
in your estimation had he given them subtle disquisitions 
on the nature and theory of morals ? Would he, by so 
doing, have demonstrated to them more forcibly then- 
duties, or touched with better success their understand- 
ings and their hearts ? 

Further : lessons are thus conveyed not only clearly 
and impressively, but, what is of equal consequence, in- 
offensively. The task of a moral instructor is a delicate 
one. If he would find his way to the human heart, he 
must do it indirectly, for it is entrenched in a secret 
pride and obstinacy. A gentle and casual hint often 



223 

awakens reflection and insinuates itself unconsciously 
into the heart, when a direct -attack upon a man's prin- 
ciples, honor and moral excellence is repelled with in- 
dignation and resentment. Accordingly, the parables 
of the Saviour relate impartially a few circumstances 
which awaken the moral sense, and leave the mind to 
its own conclusions. Our eyes, as we read them, are 
turned unawares upon our behaviour. We make the 
application for ourselves, where another would not be 
allowed to make it ; and fix the guilt where it is due. 
The duties of self-examination and amendment are thus 
most skilfully and agreeably taught ; and the divine in- 
structions of our heavenly Teacher become the crucible 
in which our thoughts and affections may be proved, and 
from which they must issue refined and purified. 

Such too is the number and variety of the subjects 
to which this mode of instruction is applied, that while 
the heart is improved, the mind is agreeably and profit- 
ably exercised in the endeavor to ascertain correctly 
the bearing and object of each parable. Where the re- 
semblance between the figure and that which it is in- 
tended to represent is not too obvious, enquiry is excit- 
ed ; the thoiights are exercised in a most engaging way 
upon moral and religious subjects ; and by the very ef- 
fort of the mind to acquire a just idea, by this employ- 
ment of the thoughts, the truth when obtained is more 
deeply impressed. For it is the frequency and constan- 
cy with which the same truth is presented to attention, 
rather than its force and clearness at any given instant, 
which makes the memory retain it, and gives it a firm 
lodgment in the chambers of the intellect. The sun 
of righteousness came not to throw a brilliant yet mo- 



224 

mentary gleam across the darkness of our hemisphere, 
but to shed a permanently soft and cheering influence 
upon the whole of our moral nature. No doubt that 
the Apostles, who, however we may venerate their of- 
fice and character, were at first ignorant and artless men, 
had their faculties profitably exercised and awakened 
by the various forms in which the Saviour presented 
moral truth to their attention. No one can read the 
Gospels, without observing their anxiety to have the par- 
ables explained. 

It is worthy of remark also, that there is something 
peculiarly agreeable to Eastern nations in this figura- 
tive method of instruction. The glowing suns of the 
East seem to have been as favorable to the luxuriance 
of man's imagination, as to the soil beneath his feet. 

In the persent age of intellectual wealth, when the 
literary treasures of every age and nation are within 
the reach of almost every reader, few persons are un- 
acquainted with the style of Eastern tales, with the 
gorgeousness of their imagery, their playful and daring 
flights of fancy. To such persons the Bible speaks its 
authenticity by the nature of its contents. But how 
favorably does the chastened use which Jesus makes 
of this Eastern taste, contrast with the productions to 
which I have alluded. In these the imagination seeks 
only to gratify herself, and runs riot amid the profu- 
sion of images with which she is surrounded and daz- 
zled. With the Saviour the similitude is always sub- 
servient to the moral : in them the interest is sustained 
by the excitement of the passions. The object of their 
writer is to throw a spangled veil over the deformity of 
vice and sensual indulgence. The pure and untainted 



225 

mind can scarcely be trusted with the volume which 
contains them. With the Saviour the images are chaste 
and pure as his own nature. They tend only to refine 
the thoughts and to inform the mind. Contrast too the 
dignity and decorum of his parables, and the simple 
majesty in which he pictures himself as coming in his 
glory with holy angels to separate the good from the 
wicked, with the gaudy coloring of the Koran of 
Mahomet and his paradise of sensual delights, and you 
will have no unfavorable impression of the superiority 
of the Christian scriptures. You will feel that while 
the Bible is worthy of the messengers of divine truth, 
the Koran is the offspring of human invention, — the 
effort of human genius to accommodate sacred things 
to the low standard of a vitiated taste- 
Again : there is this difference between the figurative 
lessons of the Saviour, and the fable of more polished coun- 
tries, designed also for the inculcation of a moral, that 
he pictures to the mind only what is possible and pro- 
bable. He gathers instruction from the real processes of 
nature and the genuine forms of character and life. He 
never endows the object of the animate and inanimate 
creation with powers which do not belong to them, nor 
condescends to the almost puerile artifice of giving to 
things dumb and senseless the reason and the speech of 
man. How far his practice in this respect indicates his 
reverence for truth, and throws a tacit reproof upon the 
license of other fabulists, is a question perhaps worth con- 
sidering. Nature indeed, throughout all her forms, abounds 
with sources of moral instruction and comparison. It is 
not without reason that the poet says, " Go, from the 
creatures thy instruction take ; " — a precept whose spirit 
29 



226 



the author of the Proverbs beautifully embodies in that 
well-known passage, " Go to the ant, thou sluggard ! 
consider her ways and be wise ! " But our Saviour felt 
in all its force the justice of the sentiment, " the proper 
study of mankind is man." The empire of the mind 
is there. The forms and manifestations of rational 
and moral life are bounded by his nature and com- 
prised within his history ; and in himself you see the 
height to which he can erect, the depth to which 
he can degrade himself. Hence, in the Saviour's 
scenes, men only are the actors and the speakers ; men 
as they stood before him when he spoke ; men as 
they exist in every age and nation, with the same pas- 
sions, prejudices, virtues, vices, under different external 
forms and names. And with what skill does he com- 
press into a narrow compass deep and important mean- 
ing ! With a few strokes he traces the outline of a 
perfect drama ; introduces his characters, disposes his 
incidents, and in a moment brings on the crisis which 
moves the breast of the spectator with distress and pity, 
or overwhelms him with shame and conscious guilt ! 
With what genius and beauty does he bring his own 
figure into view, and under characters the most various, 
important, and significant, assign to himself a prominent 
place in the arena of the moral world ; the sower ; the 
vine-dresser ; the proprietor of an estate ; the careful 
shepherd ; the just master ; the compassionate father ; 
the splendid bridegroom ; the powerful nobleman ; the 
heir of a kingdom ; and the king upon his throne of 
glory, judging the whole world. 

It raises our idea of this genius to a sublime height, 
if we believe ; as there is reason to believe, that these 



227 

admirable'compositions were not the slow product of in- 
dustry, not the work of effort toiling after perfection, 
but struck off at the moment they were needed ; the 
play of a master spirit, indulging his own powers. Many 
of them were delivered on the same day and occasion ; 
and if we study the occasions, and the persons to whom 
they were addressed, we shall find them wonderfully 
fitted to answer their design. Besides placing his own 
office and mission in such various and engaging lights, 
he insinuates through them truths relating to his age 
and dispensation, which would not have been borne in 
any other form. Through them he attacks the Phari- 
sees and Scribes who came to hear him, and indicates, 
as in the careful Shepherd seeking his lost sheep, — the 
return of the prodigal son, — the unjust steward dismiss- 
ed, — the reversed condition of the rich man and Laza- 
rus, — that Providence was preparing to withdraw his 
favor from those who had abused it, and was about to 
receive into his fold all whose poverty and humility ren- 
dered them fit objects of his own and his Father's care. 
In some, which have been called the National parables, 
he describes the consequences of the rejection of himself, 
and predicts the destruction of the Jewish state ; as in 
the invitation to the marriage feast refused, — the vine- 
yard let out to men who killed even the son of the 
owner, — the cursing of the barren fig-tree, — and the son 
who pretended to do his Father's will and did it not. 
In others, which may be called the Apostolic parables, 
he enforced the duties necessary to his followers. In 
the parable of the rich man, that laid up goods for many 
years, he taught the folly of selfishness and worldliness ; 
in that of the importunate widow, the benefit of per- 



228 

severance ; in that of the generous monarch, the duty 
of forgiveness ; in the talents and the virgins, of watch- 
fulness and fidelity ; in the Pharisee and the Publican, 
he reproves the sins of spiritual arrogance and pride ; 
and in the parable of the good Samaritan, he enforces 
the practice of brotherly kindness and charity. So that 
we are at a loss whether to admire more, his choice of 
subjects to illustrate, or the skill and fertility he displays 
in illustration. We may truly say, " he has fulfilled the 
prophecy, I will utter things which have been kept 
secret from the foundation of the world." 

Having glanced thus rapidly over the subjects of the 
parables, and made these observations upon them, as a 
method of instruction, there is yet a remark worthy of 
attention, to defend the teaching of our Lord from the 
charge of needless obscurity ; to answer the question of 
the disciples, " why speakest thuu unto the multitude 
in parables ?" That defence is contained in our Lord's 
own reply : " unto you it is given to know the mysteries 
of the kingdom of heaven, but unto them it is not 
given ; " to them the truths relating to my dispensation 
must as yet appear only in the shadowy form. This 
mode of teaching, be it observed, was not adopted by 
our Lord till he had tried the temper of his hearers, till 
he had found them ready to misconstrue and pervert 
all he could say or do. On many occasions he had 
openly asserted his Divine Mission. In the Sermon on 
the Mount, as you will recollect, every thing is plain, 
simple, intelligible. Not a thought is couched in fig- 
ures. Already he had wrought most of his mighty 
works in support of his claims, in proof that the 
" Father was with him." But they rejected him. On 



229 



the very day when his parables were uttered, the Scribes 
and Pharisees had attributed his miracles to Beelzebub ; 
and when he announced himself as the Son of God, they 
charged him with blasphemy, and took up stones to 
stone him. Finding therefore their opposition deter- 
mined, their insensibility immovable, that " seeing they 
saw not, and hearing they would not understand," he 
resorted to modes of instruction less explicit and direct ; 
methods, which shielded himself, yet were equally useful 
to them ; methods, which lent his enemies no handle 
for his injury, and only allowed them to hide, under 
an affected scorn, their real mortification at his superior 
powers ; methods, which concealed nothing from those 
who were disposed to acquire further information, and 
at the same time were admirably calculated to excite 
inquiry and reflection. " Whosoever hath much," said 
he ; whoever hath a willingness to receive instruction, 
a desire to acquire more knowledge and juster views, 
M unto him shall be given ; " but " whosoever hath not " 
the singleness of mind, candor and integrity, which 
my words require, " from him shall be taken away even 
that which he hath." For this reason, I withdraw 
the plainness of speech I formly used, and decline the 
evidences of my mission I have hitherto put forth, that 
you may not go on adding to your iniquities by per- 
version. " Nothing " says the celebrated Shaftesbury, 
" does truth more harm, than disclosing too much of it 
on some occasions. It is at best useless, and may be 
pernicious ; since there are persons disposed to turn to 
a wrong use, and take in the worst sense, whatever 
may be said." Every religious and moral teacher 
knows the value and importance of this principle. It 



230 

is equally important and essential to the good effect of 
teaching, that the mind of the hearer should be pre- 
pared and fitted to receive it, as that the teacher should 
be confident in the intrinsic merit of his subject of dis- 
course. Now, in our Lord's case, every one must per- 
ceive, that even his disciples, his most intimate compan- 
ions were but gradually able to enter into the objects 
and the spirit and the consequences of his mission. 
They, in consequence of their narrow views and Jewish 
prej udices, were often staggered in the course of our Lord's 
career, and their wavering characters extorted from him 
the touching question, " will ye also go away from me ? " 
Even to them our Lord could only venture dimly and 
slowly to unfold truths so unwelcome to a Jewish mind, 
as the destruction of the Jewish state and temple ; the 
spiritual nature of the Messiah's kingdom ; the sufferings 
and ignominious death of its great head ; the sacrifices, 
the qualifications demanded from its first subjects ; the 
calling of the Gentiles to a full share in all its privileges, 
and in the glory to which it would utimately lead. 
These things served at first but to perplex and trouble 
the persons most disposed to lend a gracious ear to his 
instructions. Others, we can well imagine, would be 
fired with indignation and scorn. It was not till after 
the resurrection and ascension of Jesus, that the Apostles 
fully understood these things, and that the Holy Spirit 
brought so clearly to their remembrance, because they 
now could feel their force, all those beautiful parables, 
which their hearts were so gross and their ears so dull 
as not to comprehend before. 

Let me add a few practical inferences. 

I. Observe the consummate wisdom of our Lord 



2S\ 

in the adaptation of his lessons to the powers and dis- 
positions of his hearers. " It is with the understanding 
as with eyes ; to such as are of a certain construction 
and make, just so much light is necessary and no more." 
All beyond this brings darkness and confusion. Thus 
wisely did our Lord figure to his hearers, in images of 
beauty, truths solemn and affecting, according as they 
were able to bear them ; truths, which it was needful 
for him to teach, which time only could enable them 
fully to comprehend. And how beautiful, how perfect 
are these lessons ! how inimitable their manner ! how 
divine their spirit! It may safely be asserted, that the 
parables, as compositions, never were and never can be 
excelled in beauty and effect. This, my friends, is but 
one scarcely observed feature in the character of the 
Saviour, yet how striking ! While the completion of the 
prophecies they contain attests his divine mission, their 
variety, beauty, and pertinence, on occasions which did 
not admit of premeditation, furnish a strong presumption 
of his more than human wisdom. The character of the 
Saviour is not one which bears merely an imposing 
aspect at a distance ; the more narrowly you look into it, 
the closer you bring the eye to every part of it, the 
more perfect and beautiful it appears. It requires to be 
studied and re-studied, to know even partially its ex- 
cellence. Oh ! how shall our hearts find room enough 
to contain the love, the admiration which are his due ! 
II. What attention, what consideration do the gos- 
pels require, to be fully appreciated and understood ? I 
cannot imagine from what part of scripture men would 
gather the idea, that reason has nothing to do with reli- 
gion, that it is unsafe to exercise the mind freely upon 



232 

the subject. Observe how much our Lord left for his 
followers to infer, and to make out. He did nothing but 
furnish them with subjects for the exercise of their un- 
derstandings. He put forth parables as problems which 
they were to demonstrate by their own reflections, and 
" as they were able to bear them, he spake unto them 
the words of light and life." What, indeed is the Gos- 
pel, but, as the Apostle describes it, a " making known 
the mysteries or secrets of the divine will, which, in ages 
before, were not made known ?" what but an annunci- 
ation of glad tidings for all, who have ears to hear, to 
hear? Where does our Lord forbid the exercise of 
reason ? What portion of holy writ disclaims, de- 
nounces it ? That veil which was over Moses, Christ, 
saith the Apostle, hath withdrawn ; and our Lord gives 
this charge to his Apostles, " What I tell you in darkness, 
that speak ye in light, and what ye hear in the ear, that 
preach ye on the house-tops ! " No, it is the fiction of 
priests who tremble for their craft, that in religion only 
reason must be checked, cramped, and smothered. They 
tell us that we must put out the candle of the under- 
standing when we approach the sacred page, in order 
that, being in darkness, we may be better fitted to 
receive their words for the " words of life." My friends, 
the principle, the great principle, that a Christian faith 
is not a blind, unthinking faith, that religion requires 
and demands the full, free use of the mind's best pow- 
ers, is the grand principle of Protestantism. It is one 
which, among Protestants at least, the Unitarian man- 
fully avows, fairly concedes, and which he especially 
should carry into practice. 

III. Above all, observe the object of our Saviour's 



233 

teaching. That object is, not to shape a system of 
infallible faith, but to form a character. Dispositions, not 
opinions ; actions, not creeds, were the tests of excel- 
lence and acceptance with him. Is it necessary to prove 
this ? Learn of the good Samaritan. What ? That it 
is better to worship at Jerusalem than at Mount Geri- 
zim ? No ; but that universal charity which sees a 
brother in a suffering mortal. Learn of the returning 
prodigal. What ? That a proscribed system, or par- 
ticular point of faith is necessary to acceptance ? No ; 
but that penitence, humility and reformation will secure 
the forgiveness and compassion of the one all-merciful 
Father. Volumes upon volumes of theology are writ- 
ten, to adjust precisely the dimensions of a saving creed. 
Alas ! they go but little way towards softening the ob- 
duracy of one human heart, or producing in mankind 
that deep, that filial piety, that sweet and lowly char- 
ity which the Saviour exemplified and taught. 

My friends, I do not say " think what you believe of 
no importance ; but if you do believe in Jesus as the Sa- 
viour, if you acknowledge him as your Lord here, and 
your Judge hereafter, make it your first, your last, and 
your most constant care to cultivate the charity, humil- 
ity, and forgiveness ; the penitence, the watchfulness, 
and spiritual-mindedness which his parables go to recom- 
mend. Thus, and thus only, will ye be blessed of his 
Father. Thus, and thus only, will there be a place for 
you in the final kingdom of his glory and his love. Amen. 
30 



234 



PRAYER. 



O Thou great Father of lights, from whom cometh 
down every good and perfect gift, we bless Thee for the 
various temporal and spiritual mercies with which Thou 
hast crowned our existence ; and especially we thank 
Thee for the instruction, consolation, and improvement 
which we derive from the Gospel of thy Son, Jesus 
Christ. We thank Thee for the light which his mission, 
and death, and resurrection, his varied instructions, and 
his mighty works, have thrown upon things kept secret 
from the foundation of the world, — upon the great truths, 
relating to thy providence and purposes, to our own 
discipline and destiny, which, without it, would be still 
involved in dark and mournful obscurity. 

Grant, we beseech Thee, that we may participate 
largely in the benign influences of his example and in- 
structions ; that our consciences may be refined, our 
hearts enlarged, and our minds elevated by our frequent 
and earnest communion with him, as he is made known 
to us in the records of his life and ministry. May we 
dwell with habitual satisfaction upon thy parental and 
compassionate character ; and when we wander, as we 
lament we too frequently do, from thy guidance and 
authority, may no fears of a relentless anger prevent us 
from speedily returning to our Father's house, and im- 
ploring, with penitence and godly sorrow, for pardon, 
protection, and aid. 

Remembering that Thou, who, without respect of 
persons, judgest every man's work, wilt hereafter appro- 
priate to us our reward according to our application and 



235 

improvement of the talents entrusted to us, may we not 
neglect or delay the faithful and diligent employment of 
all our powers in the promotion of human happiness, of 
our own improvement, and of thy glory. May we 
never pass by any opportunities of doing good, which 
occur to us in the journey of life, hurrying away on the 
other side in the pursuit of selfish ends and pleasures, 
and steeling our hearts by vain excuses against the 
claims of duty and compassion to our neighbor. 

O God, call, we beseech Thee, the attention of man- 
kind, and especially of professing Christians, to the clear 
and practical declarations of thy Son, our Saviour. So 
impress his words upon their minds and hearts, that all 
false doctrines, all hurtful prejudices, all partial and un- 
worthy views of thy character and will, may be speedily 
dispersed ; and that the members of the great family of 
man, owning a relationship to Thee, the one all-bountiful 
and universal Parent, may love one another as brethren ; 
and thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it 
is in heaven. . To Thee be glory forever, through Jesus 
Christ our Lord. 



SERMON XV. 



TO PERSONS IJV THE MIDDLE PERIOD OF 
LIFE. 



Genesis xlvii. 8. 

"AND PHARAOH SAID UNTO JACOB, HOW OLD AKT THOU?" 

The bosom of youth rebounds with joy as they answer 
this question. Each anniversary of their natal day they 
welcome with increasing pleasure. Light as their own 
footsteps, is to them the passage of succeeding years. 
Joyful is the adieu which they bid to the past, and ex- 
ultingly they hail the coming of the future. They bid 
the years roll rapidly along, and are never more con- 
tent than when receiving the congratulations of their 
friends on the opening of a new year of their mortal 
being. The past has been and the present is to them 
a season of restraint, and therefore of dislike ; the future 
is gilded with all the brilliancy which youthful fervor 
and undisciplined imagination can pour forth, and pre- 
sents in consequence to the eye of the young, charms 
the most numerous and attractive. Life is before them 
in all the witchery of its festive exterior, and without 
the gloomy realities with which it is chequered to those 



237 

who have tasted, handled and felt its deceptive forms. 
The young, therefore, gladly stretch forward into com- 
ing periods, and on the question, " how old art thou," 
are pleased when they can add one to the number of 
their years. They feel as the prisoner, when he records 
another year complete, and finds the period of his incar- 
ceration by so much shortened. Soon, however, their 
feelings subside to a soberer tone. The gaudy colors 
of their imagination disappear at the approach of reality. 
The fairy form so eagerly pursued, turns out, at the 
moment they strive to seize it, a phantom or a spectre. 
At the best, life, however fraught with gratification, 
passeth quickly away ; and the question, " how old art 
thou," is heard by those of riper age with sobriety and 
meditation. A few years more, when the tokens of 
coming decline rise thickly on the sight, the mind 
watches the lapse of time with feelings of mingled seri- 
ousness and awe. Then the question " how old art 
thou," often excites the desire, not to accelerate, but 
arrest the flight of time ; then the recurrence of the day 
of birth awakens the remembrance cf the day of death ; 
then gladly would the heart diminish, not augment, the 
number of years forever fled ; then each returning year 
sensibly abridges the interval between life and death, 
and leads the mind to number, not the years, but the 
days of existence. 

There is a period when the minds of most men 
awaken with peculiar strength to the consciousness of 
the unalterable lapse of time. It is not during youth, 
for then the heart is too gay to do anything but speed 
and welcome the flight of their existence. It is not in 
old age, for then the mind is familiarized with the de- 



238 

cay of all mortal things, and has lost, under the influ- 
ence of familiarity, the vividness of its feelings. But it 
is in the middle stage of existence ; it is when the half 
of our threescore years is past. Then is the time, — 
when the half of existence is gone, — that we seriously 
feel, if we reflect at all, the sense of our mortality, the 
shortness of our being, the hastening on of the eternal 
world. There are not many Christians, I should think, 
who have arrived at this middle stage of life, and did 
not stop awhile to look behind and before them. Placed 
as persons of this age are, between the rising and the 
falling generation, midway between life and death, be- 
tween birth and dissolution, they may well pause, to 
look on what is past, and what to come. Reason now 
begins her undivided reign. Fancy, imagination and 
romance, experience has put to flight ; the throb of the 
passions is subdued ; and objects are seen, not in bor- 
rowed, but in their native colors. Now then is the 
time for sober contemplation. 

One half of life is gone ! Solemn and affecting 
thought ! The days of our years are half numbered. 
There is then truth in what they tell us of the transito- 
riness of all sublunary things. The story of our mor- 
tality is an awful reality, and not a fiction of the imagi- 
nation. Within the same period as that we have lived t 
we shall be dust and ashes, or sinking under the weight 
and infirmities of age. There stand our parents and 
their contemporaries on the point of descending to the 
tomb ; evidences of our mortal lot, and types of our 
future selves. A few more years, a few more hurried 
joys, a few more trials, a few more tears, and we, as 
they do now, shall stand beside our tomb, and our little 



239 

ones perhaps be then engaged in reflections such as 
those we at this moment make. 

One half of life is gone ! how short the space appears ! 
Yet short as it is, many who began the course together 
with ourselves, have died, without, witnessing its termi- 
nation. Many a youthful head, rich in promise, can 
we call to mind, which now rests on the clods of the 
valley ; and many a bosom, where kindness largely 
dwelt, and whence we ourselves drew perchance large 
draughts of refreshing and nourishing affection, is now 
as cold as the sward by which it is forever covered. 
Brief, then, as is the space now fled, it is longer much 
than what has been conceded to many. And of those 
who began the course of life together with ourselves, no 
few were there who, through their little day, far excel- 
led us in the virtues of their season. Yet they are gone, 
and we are spared. We therefore owe not to our own 
merits, but to the sovereign mercy of the Controller of 
events, the prolongation of our being. 

One half of existence gone ! and our rational nature 
is only just beginning to be. We have as yet scarcely 
had time or opportunity to think, to ask whence and 
what we are, and what is our destiny, and whither we 
are going. We look around us, and find we know noth- 
ing of what it most concerns us to understand. We 
enter into account with the past, and find but few sub- 
jects of pleasurable reflection. The half of our being 
gone, before we can act as independent and individual 
beings ! The habits of our childhood and youth are 
yet strong within us. Arrived at man's estate, we are 
yet, too many of us, children in understanding. One 
half of life spent in learning, and we not yet taught ! 



240 

One half passed in probation, and we yet unprepared 
for the cares and duties of active life ! Alas ! some per- 
haps have gone backward in wisdom as they have ad- 
vanced in years, and become less fitted for the duties 
in the very proportion in which they have none onward 
in life ; each passing year having left its trace, not in 
holy but in vicious impressions. 

And at the best, how little good do we find upon the 
register of thirty years ! How small has been, within 
that time, the amount of good we have done ! If life 
were now to be abruptly terminated, how few are the 
acts of our past days that we should wish to follow us to 
the bar of our Judge ! Ah ! few indeed are the widow's 
tears that we have dried ; few are the orphan's sorrows 
that we have soothed ; few are the prejudices that we 
have destroyed ; few are the minds that we have enlight- 
ened ; few are the truths that we have developed ; few 
are the joys that we have imparted ; few are the hopes 
that we have kindled ; few are the homes that we have 
blessed. Few, did I say, — 1 fear there may be some 
present, I hope not many, who have scarcely once con- 
ferred a benefaction on their kind ; and what, should 
it prove, if instead of benefactions, they may have 
inflicted curses on those with whom they have come in 
contact. Certain it is, however, that evil we have all 
done in our day and generation. Our sins and imper- 
fections have left impressions behind them, not only on 
our own hearts, but in the character of others ; and on 
these, as on all evil impressions, unhappiness must have 
attended. Harm, then, all have done, whether they 
have done good or not. In this certain fact, what an 
inducement ought we all to find, to redeem the past as 



241 

well as we may. by making the future replete with ex- 
cellence. Beside, if the half of life is gone, and yet so 
little done, how zealous should we be to make what 
remains supply the deficiency of what is no longer within 
our power. True it is, that by the arrangement of the 
All-wise disposer of events, the early part of life is 
designed for preparation. Yet no few have discovered 
the happy art of making the season of preparation a 
season of beneficence also ; of finding the elements of 
their own happiness and excellence in promoting their 
fellow creature's good ! Yes, many are they, the first 
half of whose existence has not been barren, but rich in 
good to their race ; many are they, whose memory may 
well suffuse our cheeks with shame, and speed our tardy 
steps in the way of beneficence. Before the age at 
which we have arrived, an Alexander had made the 
conquest of the world ; and if the first part of existence 
sufficed for him to do mankind so great a wrong, strange 
that we have not therein found the occasion to promote, 
in some degree, the interests of our fellow beings, and 
stranger still, if we allow what yet remains of life to run 
to waste. By the age of thirty years, we read in holy writ, 
David had raised himself from the lowly station of a 
shepherd to the throne of the kingdom of Israel ; within 
the same time, little, I fear, is the progress that we have 
made towards sharing in the offered throne of the king- 
dom of Christ. At the period which we have reached, 
the Son of God had wrought the salvation of the world. 
And we who call ourselves his followers, how far have 
we followed his great example ? Have we effected even 
our own salvation ; have we saved ourselves from the 
dominion of sin ; from the dominion of ignorance ; from 
31 



242 

the dominion of prejudice ; from the dominion of unholy 
passions and unregulated tempers ? The half of life is 
gone ; is the half of our great work done ? Is there a 
progress made in the divine life which you can regard 
with complacency ? As you have died to the world, 
have you lived to Christ? As the body has faded, has 
the soul grown and strengenthed ? Every day of the 
past has been to you a divinely appointed monitor ; have 
you heard and improved the lessons which it gave ? My 
friends, pardon my urgency ; the past, you know, and 
feel is irrevocahly gone ; the future will quickly be 
where the past is now. Thrice more may you number 
a tythe of years, and then you will be known on earth 
only by the sound of a name, How then can you trifle 
with the remainder of your being ? Imagine — the ima- 
gination will soon be a reality, — imagine yourselves 
standing at the end of the next thirty years, as you now 
stand at the termination of those which are passed. 
How great will be your alarm, should they furnish no 
more subjects of pleasurable contemplation than you 
now behold ! One life spent in vain you will then see, 
and in that vanity a second lost; threescore years 
squandered, and in that prodigality an eternity jeopard- 
ized ! The prospect may well alarm us. How much more 
pleasing the picture when reversed ! This life spent so 
as to gain the next. The fruits of the spring and sum- 
mer ripened into an abundant and a glorious harvest. 
The immortal spirit enriched from the spoils of time. 
The memory of beneficent deeds a treasure of joy and 
hope and blessedness in the soul. The testimony of a 
generation benefited going with us into eternity, and 
bespeaking for us the merciful award of a merciful Judge. 



Who would not desire these things ? Softly and sweet- 
ly will that Christian fall to rest, whose dying couch is 
smoothed by the memory of acts of goodness ; and 
softened down will be every anxious feeling in his breast 
when before the judgment-bar, who can present, togeth- 
er with himself, those whom on earth he benefited. 
Here a deserted child will tell that he proved a father 
to the fatherless ; there a reclaimed prodigal will speak 
of the earnestness of his expostulations, and the attrac- 
tiveness of his devout and happy life. He has been eyes 
to the blind, and ears to the deaf, he has given hope to 
the disconsolate and bread to the hungry, justice he pro- 
cured for the oppressed and relief for the distressed, a 
multitude of voices will proclaim. An ancient, signa- 
lized no less by his vanity than his eloquence, has de- 
clared that no voice is so sweet as that of the herald of 
one's own praises. But there is a sweeter voice than 
any which the Roman orator had heard. It is the voice 
of those who, with no claim but that of a common hu- 
manity, have eat of our bread and drunk of our cup, 
have grown wise from our knowledge, and good from 
our example ; it is this voice whispering around our ears 
as they become dull in death, and rising to a louder and 
a fuller note as we stand awaiting our final doom. 

It has been pleaded in behalf of the years which are 
past, that they constitute by the arrangements of Provi- 
dence a season of preparation. We grant the plea. 
But has their purpose been fulfilled ? Is the work of 
preparation done ? Does the close of the season come 
upon you rich in its appropriate fruits ? For what are 
you prepared ? to be good and to do good in the impor- 
tant functions you have now to discharge ? It is well : 



244 

but notice, I beg, that if the past has been a season 
of preparation, the present is in consequence the season 
of action. Your powers have reached their maturity ; 
your means of usefulness are accumulated in your hands ; 
duties the most numerous, diverse and important press 
upon you. Now then is the time for active labor. 
The errors of the past you are now to rectify, the defi- 
ciencies of the past you are now to supply. Education 
is two-fold ; that which a man receives from others, and 
that which he gives himself. In this, as in all cases, that 
acquisition is most valuable which is the result of one's 
own labors. The present is the time for your second 
education ; and the present, therefore, is the time most 
favorable to improvement. Pass, then, the years that 
are gone carefully in review ; scrutinize the impressions 
which they have left on your characters, the principles 
and opinions which they have conveyed into your minds. 
Weigh every thing in the balance of equity. Be swayed 
neither by aversion nor predilection, but let pure reason 
pronounce its judgment, and by that judgment firmly 
and consistently abide. The mistakes of the past cor- 
rect its prejudices abandon, its unholy influences dis- 
card ; all that your judgment disapproves, reject, though 
it be to the laceration of your heart ; let not the love even 
of kindred be dear to you in comparison of truth. Ho- 
nored and endeared be to you the memories of parents 
and benefactors ; but while you render to them their 
due, let the love of God and truth, of fair dealing with 
your own mind, and of free speech from your own con- 
victions, be sacred and inviolate ; and let the rectifi- 
cation of the past be the prelude to the improvement 
of the future. In the strength of your heart, and 



245 

with prayer for God's aid, resolve that no day shall 
pass without some contribution to your intellect and 
your heart. And for this you need not leave the 
sphere of your engagements, nor the precincts of your 
home. If indeed you do, whatever acquirements you 
make, they are nothing more than glittering sins. Each 
person's duty lies in the sphere where God has placed 
him ; to wander from that sphere, whatever may be the 
nature of the pursuits, under whatever sacred name it 
may present itself, whether of intellectual improvement, 
or God's service, or man's benefit, to wander from that 
sphere is to wander from the path of duty. The sphere 
of God's appoinment is the sphere of man's duty, and 
the only proper school for man's improvement. Humble 
you may think the engagements of that sphere, still 
they are what is required of you, and the gaudier shows 
for which you may neglect them will issue in your dis- 
appointment, if not in your condemnation. The per- 
formance of God's will you should regard as no less the 
way of pleasantness than the way of duty. If each one 
were at liberty to neglect the duties of his station, 
because they did not, in his conception, give occasion for 
splendid virtues, all "would leave their sphere and rush 
into the skies." How much more fitting than this vain 
reaching after something beyond our grasp is the con- 
duct of the humble yet obedient Christian, who, anxious 
only to do his duty, thinks nothing of the station in 
which he has to perform it, acting, though unconsciously, 
in this as in many other instances, in a manner truly 
sublime, and in unison with the fine sentiment of the 
sublimest of poets : 



246 



" who best 

Bear God's mild yoke, they serve Him best ; his state 
Is kingly ; thousands at his bidding speed, 
And post o'er land and ocean, without rest ; 
They also serve, who only stand and wait." 

Nor should you entertain the f ilse impression, that the 
lowliness of jour station takes from it the elements of 
enlarged excellence. The greatest virtues have grown 
and flourished in the humblest and most secluded 
stations. Moral and mental sublimity is limited to no 
spot. It is not the situation that creates greatness, but 
the love and service of the common Parent. The way 
in which you discharge your duties, and not the place 
in which they are discharged, it is that puts the differ- 
ence between man and man. If one place be more 
favorable than another to virtue, I should rather look 
for it in the humbler than in the loftier ranks of society. 
On the surface of the globe, the hills are often barren, 
while the vales below them flourish in beauty and 
luxuriance. Certainly God has made no condition so 
lowly as to be beyond the reach of his presence and 
blessing, nor so destitute as not to abound in occasions 
of the amplest virtues. Is the condition of any one of 
you devoid of remembrancers of God, of the value of 
integrity, of the need of religion, of the worth of 
patience, industry, perseverance, charity, forbearance, 
moderation ? These common words are the signs of 
rare virtues, and the seclusion of private, yea humble 
life, is the school and the sphere for them all. And 
beneficence truly sublime, may be exercised within the 
precincts of the humblest cot. Few can confer a 
greater blessing in itself, or a greater boon on society, 
than is found in a well ordered and well principled fam- 



247 

ily. Nor are there many benefactions that cost more ex- 
ertion, more disinterestedness, self-discipline, more self- 
denial. However humble then may be their lot, let not 
the Christian father and mother neglect their duties for 
shows as vain as they are gaudy; let them be assured 
that their sphere of action is unspeakably important, 
and may be made to abound in excellencies transcen- 
dency sublime. Beings declared by their Creator to 
be immortal, are entrusted to their care ; the happiness 
of generations yet unborn, the happiness of eternity as 
well as of time, depends on their own characters and 
the characters of their offspring. 

This, then, is the sphere in which I beg you to seek 
self-improvement, the sphere of your ordinary engage- 
ments, the sphere of your families. And that self- 
improvement I would have you seek, as the one great 
business of your lives. Let no week, let no day be past, 
without witnessing some effort for self-improvement, 
without a record of some progress made in the rectifica- 
tion of your motives, the subdual of your temper, the 
sweetening of your disposition, the strengthening of your 
virtues, the elevation of your character, the spiritual- 
izing of your affections, in the crucifixion of self and the 
exaltation of God. Did each but thus pursue the great 
end of his being, how rapidly would the face of society 
change and brighten ; the spirit, not as now, of selfish- 
ness, but of God, would move upon and through its 
elements, moulding into a moral harmony and beauty 
the chaos of a distracted world. 

As an additional inducement to your undertaking 
the task which I recommend, let me subjoin the con- 



248 

sideration, that after a few more years, and the season of 
improvement will be closed. The period of life at which 
we have arrived, will quickly be succeeded by one, un- 
susceptible, in ordinary cases, of considerable progress. 
Now, in the intellect as well as in the heart, we may be 
progressive, but then we must be stationary ; now the 
course of nature may be in an onward direction, then it 
stops or recedes. Delay beyond the present period is 
full of peril. Now is the accepted time, now is the day 
of salvation, may be emphatically said of the middle 
stage of life ; now before the chains of habit are indis- 
solubly rivetted, now before the susceptibilities of your 
frame are grown dull, now in the vigor of maturity, 
now in the prime of your life. Neglect this period, and 
much do I fear you will grow worse and worse, each 
year darkening the hues of your character, and confirm- 
ing the perversities of your disposition, till bad feelings 
and vicious actions become a necessity of your nature, 
and your condemnation be sealed. Think not that I 
would shorten the Lord's arm, or restrict the limits of 
his mercy ; I speak but of facts, of the ordinary effects 
of sin, without denying the possibility of reformation 
even at the eleventh hour. But who would risk his 
safety on a bare possibility ? who would put off his hap- 
piness to the close of life, and that with the assurance 
that, even at the best, the reformed prodigal is only in 
the infancy of spiritual life, and spiritual blessedness ? 

But the unutterable folly of delay is yet perhaps 
more clearly seen when we reflect on the insecurity of 
the tenure by which we hold our being. The past, 
instead of being one half, may prove to you and to me 
nearly the whole, of existence. Ere another year elapse, 



249 • 

each one may have had the Seal of death put upon his 
character, and that which death has sealed remains 
unchanged, unimproved,' to await the awful decision of 
the Almighty Judge. The return of another natal day 
may find our place vacant around the hearth, and our 
friends using the language of grief instead of gratulation, 
and their faces suffused with tears, instead of brightened 
with smiles. The year that has fled has not been with- 
out warnings to us of the possibility of this mournful 
change ; there has been more than one voice in society, 
and more than one in our own frame, bidding us to be 
prepared. Shall we then delay the one thing needful ? 
Oh ! let us not reckon on any time "but the present, nor 
suffer any employment of the present, but such as will 
prepare us alike for life or death, for time or eternity. 
Then the lapse of years, if years be granted, will create 
no apprehension. Rapid indeed, in the days that are 
past, has that lapse been. Days have led on to weeks, 
and weeks to months, and months to years, and years 
have brought us where we stand, and we have hardly 
known whither we were being borne. The time has 
fled, and we scarcely knew it ; so light has been its 
tread that we heard it not, so faint the traces of its steps 
that we saw them not, and now we are conscious of it 
only by its loss. And as it has been in the days that 
are gone, so will it be in those to come. We shall find 
ourselves at the brink of our graves, before we think 
thereof, and few at the best will, to our conceptions, be 
the risings and settings of the sun, the moon and the 
stars, ere to us the universe will be covered in unmingled 
darkness. But let us crowd the span of life with wise 
designs and virtuous deeds, and we may not only disre- 
32 



. 250 

gard the rapidity of the interchange of day and night, 
but welcome each returning morn, as hastening on the 
day when time to us shall be no longer, and greet each 
new yearly kindling of the sun as the lamps of God to 
light our pathway to the skies. 

Arrived at the period of life at which we now stand, 
we have seen the past, we know something of what 
the world has been, and we naturally inquire what it 
will be, what new features in its character will the re- 
mainder of our existence unfold. To answer this ques- 
tion in detail is impossible. But this is certain, that, 
to a great extent, the world will be what we shall make 
it. The elements. Of the future are in our characters, 
the coming generation will be the child of the present, 
and will bear its features. Be, then, yourselves what 
you wish your offspring to be : the way to improve the 
world, is to improve your own characters, and he is 
amongst the best friends of the race who is truly the 
best friend to himself. 

Imperfectly indeed, and unsatisfactorily to myself, 
should I discharge the task that I have undertaken in 
speaking chiefly to those of my own age, did I not re- 
cord in your presence the fact, that increasing years, 
I may add, increasing days, serve each to increase my 
sense of the value of the gospel. An ancient father of 
the church has called it the oniy hope of the world, and 
his words are the words of truth and soberness. 



PRAYER. 

O Thou Eternal and changeless Spirit, we frail and 
transient beings, feeling our own insufficiency and noth- 



251 

ingness, rejoice in the thought, that Thou art our Friend, 
our Protector, our Redeemer.' On Thee do we desire 
firmly to fix our hopes. To Thee do we cleave. The 
eternal throne of thy mercy will we not quit till our life 
departs! And O do Thou, most gracious and loving Pa- 
rent, uphold and cherish us by thy great power and bound- 
less love, so ihat in every period of life, in death, and 
on the day of judgment, we may be indissolubly thine. 
Conscious of our sins, we implore thy pardoning mercy. 
Not daring to trust in ourselves, we implore thy aid, that 
we may pass the remainder of our being in the service 
of Thee and our fellow-creatures. Impress us indelibly 
with a. sense of the shortness of the present season, yet 
of its unspeakable importance. Eternity, with its end- 
less bliss or fearful wo, depends "on it. Rouse us to 
active and persevering labors, that we may work out 
our salvation, that we may employ every hour that yet 
remains to us in improving our own characters and pro- 
moting our fellow-beings' good. How ardently do we 
thank Thee for the invaluable example of the Lord Jesus 
Christ. Let our obedience and beneficence resemble his, 
that, under thy mercy, we may hereafter be with and be 
like him, and enjoy a nearer approach to the uncreated 
glories of thy holy and benignant nature. Hear us 
through the Son of thy love and our Saviour, and accept 
through him our humble yet devout homage. Amen. 



SERMON XVI. 



THE FORMATION AMD PROGRESS OF THE 
CHRISTIAN CHARACTER. 



1 Kings vi. 7. 

THE HOUSE, WHEN IT WAS IN BUILDING, WAS BUILT OF STONE, MADE 
READY BEFORE IT WAS BROUGHT THITHER; SO THAT THERE WAS 
NEITHER HAMMER, NOR AXE, NOR ANY TOOL OF IRON, HEARD IN THE 
HOUSE, WHILE IT WAS IN BUILDING." 



There is nothing in which true greatness is. more 
conspicuous, than in the tranquillity and silence with 
which it accomplishes grand designs. It will generally 
be found, that the most magnificent objects in nature, 
and the noblest efforts in the intellectual, civil, and reli- 
gious world are without ostentation or bustle ; and that 
you are left to admire the effect, without being able to 
trace, or at least without being compelled to mark, the 
operations of the cause. " So is the kingdom of God," 
saith Jesus Christ, whose calm and quiet dignity, even 
at the moment he was subjecting to his word the ele- 
ments, and raising to life the dead, is a beautiful illus- 
tration of the sentiment I would express, — " So is the 
kingdom of God," as if a man should cast seed into 



-53 

the ground, and should sleep and rise night and day, and 
the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not 
how." 

The words which I have set at the head of this dis- 
course, are taken from the history of the building of 
Solomon's temple. We are told, that the costly and 
magnificent materials of which it was composed were 
made ready before they were brought there; that the stones 
were hewn and polished beforehand, and so fitted for 
their several places and uses, that they might be joined 
together without the noise of instruments ; so that there 
was neither hammer, nor axe, nor any tool of iron, heard 
in the house, while it was in building. And this splen- 
did temple was erected with a silence and tranquillity, 
beautifully comporting with the grandeur of its design, 
and with the sacredness of the object to which it was 
to be dedicated. 

We are not, as I apprehend, too strictly or literally. 
to interpret these words ; much less for their explana- 
tion need we resort to the fictions of some Jewish com- 
mentators, who have fancied, that a "series of miracles 
was wrought for this purpose ; " that the stones of the 
temple were not fitted by any human hand ; that they 
were moved by the power of God to the spot, and that 
angels laid them in their place and order." It is suf- 
ficient to know, what the sacred history distinctly informs 
us, that the temple was erected at the command and 
with the treasures of the richest monarch of the world, 
under the protection and favor of an Almighty Provir 
dence, who had given his word to King David, and had 
fulfilled it to his son ; that Solomon himself, in his mu- 
nificent preparations for a temple, which was to be the 



254 

dwelling-place of Jehovah and the glory of Zion, had 
only followed that maxim of wisdom, which we find 
among his Proverbs, " Prepare thy' work without, and 
make it fit for thyself in the field, and afterwards, build 
thy house ;" and, finally, such was the extent and skill 
of- this preparation, that w T hen the materials, thus fitted, 
Were assembled, they were set in their places "without 
the noise of instruments. 

I w 7 ould improve this history of the erection of the 
Jewish temple, as an emblem. of the formation of the 
christian character. I am aware, that there are just. ob- 
jections to a figurative or allegorical interpretation of 
scripture. There is, I know, " a unity of sense," which 
is carefully to be regarded ; and we, to whom is en- 
trusted the ministry of the word, are not permitted, 
under the pretence of spiritual instruction, to accom- 
modate the plain meaning of a text to even the most 
ingenious fancies. Much injury has been done by this 
" deceitful handling " of the truth of God ; and the 
plainest precepts and the simplest narratives have thus, 
ever since the days of Origen and his allegorising 
followers, been perverted to an apology for the vainest 
dreamings and the most revolting absurdities. Still, 
after having stated the true meaning of a passage, we 
may sometimes be allowed the freedom of accommodating 
it to a spiritual use. And as the church and the children 
of God are frequently exhibited under the image of a 
temple,- — " Ye are the temple of the living God," says 
St. Paul, — and as the disciples of Christ are represented 
by St. Peter as " living stone, built, up as a spiritual 
house," I may hope to be indulged, if, with the sanction 
of inspired apostles, I improve this history of the erection 



255 

of the Jewish temple, as descriptive of the formation 
and advancement of the religious character. 

I remark, then, in the first place, that as the 
temple of Solomon was formed of materials already 
prepared, so the foundation of the christian character is, 
in powers and affections, already implanted in the man : 
his understanding, his affections, and will ; the power of 
conscience, and of discerning truth. Religion addresses 
itself to him, as a being whom God had first made 
rational and accountable, 'and it calls into exercise the 
reason and affections with which he is already endued 
as ^dependant creature of tjtod, and an heir of immor- 
tality. These are precisely the powers and the principles 
with which religion is concerned. These it is its 
province to enlarge, cherish, and sanctify. And it 
accomplishes its great objects in the soul of man, by 
enlightening his mind, by purifying his heart, by infusing 
its own spirit into all its desires and pursuits. But 
this mind and this heart we're previously formed there ; 
and there is no necessity for a new creation of powers, 
but a direction and sanctification of those that already 
exist. 

In truth, there is not a single faculty »or affection 
which religion addresses, which»has not its place in the 
original constitution of the man. And however his 
nature may be changed or perverted, still is it the gift 
of God, and includes in itself all the materials of the 
religious character. The principle of faith, for example, 
which is the foundation of all religion, and. which is 
sometimes represented as of preternatual origin, is yet 
natural to the human mind ; which; disposes us by its 
very constitution to believe on sufficient testimony. 



'256 

And to that form of faith to which the gospel calls us, 
with which, as St, Paul expresses it, " the heart believeth 
unto righteousness, 55 and which the Christian exercises 
when he confides in the ability of Christ to save, we are 
led by the natural disposition of a dependant to rely on 
the power, wisdom, and kindness of a superior. So also, 
love to God, which our Saviour represents as the' vital 
principle of religion, is naturally produced in a heart, 
unperverted with sin, by the contemplation of infinite 
perfection, and the grateful remembrance of a goodness 
of which itself has been the subject. Regard, also, to 
our fellow-creatures, benevolent wishes and efforts t«o do 
them good, which are all comprehended in the second 
great command, of " love to our neighbor," must be 
natural to a being, whom God had endued with social 
capacities, and united closely to his fellow-creatures. 
And, to add no more, that ''hope of heaven," which 
should lead us, as the Apostle instructs, to purify our- 
selves as God is pure, must belong to one, whom God 
had disposed to desire happiness for itself, and who 
believes, because his religion teaches him, that in heaven 
alone is the perfection of that happiness. 

Now these are among the leading principles of 
exercises of the Christian. And they may be sufficient 
to illustrate the sentiment, that the materials of the 
religious character are to be found in the nature of man ; 
that the foundation of the whole superstructure was 
laid by the hand of God, when he breathed into man 
the breath of life, and made him an image of his own 
immortality. In other wordsj that the germs of all the 
virtues, which it is the end of religion to cherish and 
make perfect, are originally planted in the human 
soul. 



257 

True it is, — nor is any thing that we have here as- 
serted, inconsistent with the melancholy fact, — that 
these faculties and affections may be perverted and de- 
stroyed. Sin will corrupt them. The indulgence of 
evil habits and propensities, even in the smallest degree, 
will enfeeble or impair them. And the man, in whom 
were once all the elements of goodness and virtue ; 
who, by religious education and self-discipline, in the 
improvement of the means of religion, and with the 
grace of God, might have become even a partaker of the 
divine nature, may wilfully destroy the power within 
him of discerning and pursuing good, and degrade him- 
self to a level with the brutes. And this I apprehend 
to be the true account of the corruption of our nature. 
God made man upright ; and in every rational being, as 
he comes from the hand of his Maker, there is the ca- 
pacity of moral excellence. But man seeks out many 
inventions. He yields himself to his corrupt affections. 
He suffers his better part to be borne down by a sedu- 
cing and debasing world. He becomes the slave of 
sense. He departs from God, and makes shipwreck of 
his peace ; he is " alienated from the life of God through 
wicked works." So that when sin is finished and 
bringeth forth death, it must be said of him, and of eve- 
ry sinner, as of the chosen race, on whom the bounty 
of Heaven had bestowed all means of knowledge and 
virtue, " O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself." 

This view of the nature of man, as having within 
himself the capacity of holiness, involves, my hearers, 
the most solemn considerations. It shows us, at once, 
our obligations and our privileges. It lays the sin of 
transgression or of neglect, where alone it can belong, 
33 



258 

with ourselves. Its language is, "If thou doest welly 
thou art accepted. But if thou doest not well, sin lieth 
at the door." It does not admit that delusive, and 
whatever may be its disguise of humility, that self- 
flattering notion, that a man's depravity is to be charg- 
ed upon his nature, or that it is an inheritance from his 
first parents ; so that before there can be any thing good 
within him, there must be a preternatural operation of 
sovereign grace, without which no efforts of his own can 
avail. No, my brethren, this is not the doctrine, which 
the Apostle declares to be according to godliness. The 
sentiment I would illustrate is in all its influences the 
most direct and personal ; suited, at once, to alarm and 
to encourage us. It shows us, that the divine power 
hath provided in the nature he hath given us the capa- 
cities of virtue ; and that in superadding to our natural 
light the knowledge of his son Jesus Christ, and in 
giving us the promise of his own most gracious spirit, he 
hath supplied us with all things pertaining to godliness. 
It teaches us, that it is our bounden duty to improve 
these means ; to honor, by our consecration of it, to his 
service, the nature with which he has distinguished us. 
It warns us, that if by abuse and transgression we de- 
file this temple of God, it will not be because a goodly 
foundation was not laid, or fit materials supplied, but 
because with wicked hands we have broken and destroyed 
them. Had Solomon, instead of erecting a temple to 
Jehovah, reduced to dust the magnificent pillars that 
sustained it, and burnt to ashes the cedar and the fir 
trees that the king of Tyre had hewn for him out of 
Lebanon, and melted into powder the silver and gold 
that seemed by their brightness to reflect the spendor 



259 

of the majesty to which they were devoted, he would 
have done no more and no worse with the materials of 
the temple, than does the sinner with the nature God 
has given him, when he defiles it with iniquity, and in 
choosing evil rather than good, sinks its glory in the 
dust. 

II. I remark, in the second place, that as the temple 
of Solomon was built up in silence, the noise of the axe 
or the hammer not being heard, so the religious character 
is formed and matured in silence and modesty, without 
clamorous profession, or any thing to attract the gaze, 
much less to disturb the tranquillity of the world. " The 
kingdom of God," saith Jesus Christ, " cometh without 
observation." He compares the progress of his religion, 
as we have seen, to the seed cast by the husbandman 
into the ground, which gradually advancing, one knows 
not how, is seen first in the blade, then in the ear, after 
that the full corn in the ear. The illustration of my 
text, as affording an emblem of the christian character, 
would lead me to remark, in precise accordance with 
this fine imagery of our Lord, that true religion, in its 
formation, progress, and maturity, is without noisy pre- 
tence or exhibition ; that it partakes of the tranquillity 
of the region whence it comes, and whither it would 
conduct us ; and that in proportion to the strength, 
tenderness, and sincerity of the feelings it inspires, will, 
in general, be found the modesty and unobtrusiveness of 
its spirit. 

For " behold," says the evangelic prophet, in an- 
nouncing the coming of the Son of God, " Behold my 
servant, whom 1 have chosen ; mine elect, in whom my 
soul delighteth. He shall not cry, nor lift up, nor cause 



260 

his voice to be heard in the streets/' His appearance, 
though attended with the most glorious exhibitions of 
divine power and goodness, was without earthly pomp ; 
and the calm composure, the beautiful tranquillity, by 
which, as well as by wondrous works, he proved himself 
to be the Son of God, affords the brightest evidence that 
the records of history or religion can furnish, that the 
sublimest moral excellence and even god-like attain- 
ments in holiness are without parade or ostentation. 

Now, there are those, who imagine that religion 
must be always uttering itself; and who delight in loud 
narrations of their spiritual frames. They love to col- 
lect around them their brethren and friends, and to tell 
— not always, it is to be feared, in the small voice of 
humble piety — " what great things the Lord hath done 
for them." I doubt not, that such experiences maybe 
uttered in sincerity, and sometimes, too, from the over- 
flowings of truly penitent and thankful hearts. And God 
forbid, that I should uncharitably distrust the motives 
of any humble disciple. But I mean, that the spirit 
that prompts them is not always, or necessarily, the 
spirit of religion ; whose voice, the voice of God, was 
not heard, it will be remembered, amidst the noise of 
the wind or earthquake, or in the consuming fire, but 
after these had past. And I am persuaded, not only from 
what each one may remark of himself, when under his 
deepest emotions, whether of grief, or fear, or love, but 
from the very nature of religion, that its holiest and 
highest influences are in feelings that can be uttered 
only to the Holy One, in the profound humility and re- 
tirement of the soul. 

Nor let it be imagined, that this is inconsistent with 



261 

the benevolence and zeal which true religion will inspire. 
There may be all the earnestness and energy of chris- 
tian charity and fervent " love of souls,"' with the spirit 
of the contrite. Undoubtedly the sincere Christian will 
be desirous, that the faith which sustains, the truths 
which enlighten and sanctify, the hopes that purify and 
gladden his own soul, should be the inheritance and joy 
of others. For this he will strive and pray. For this 
he will gladly bestow of his treasures, and the best la- 
bors of his life. But the humility and quietness of his 
spirit will serve only to make his zeal the more consist- 
ent and effectual ; the more acceptable with God, the 
more attractive and profitable with men ; surpassing far 
in beauty and effect the obtrusiveness of the novice, and 
the noisy pretensions of such as have learnt only so much 
of the elements of religion, as to trust in themselves 
and to despise others. 

III. Finally, as the stones of the temple, thus fitted^ 
were combined in graceful proportions, and formed a 
glorious edifice for the worship of the Most High, so 
should Christians, as living stones of that temple whose 
foundation is Christ and whose Maker is God, be uni- 
ted in harmony and love. There should be no discord 
in the church, which is the temple of God ; and the 
world should have reason to say of this, and of every 
age, as even their enemies declared of the first disciples, 
" Behold, how these Christians love one another ! " 

Yes, brethren, as the children of one Father and the 
servants of one Master, it becomes us to be united 
together in one spirit, striving together for the faith of 
the gospel. If we are not strangers to the christian 
character and hope, we shall be united in the faith of 



262 

the one living and true God, and of him whom God the 
Father hath sealed, as the messenger of his truth and 
the Saviour, of the world ; in the faith, I say, of Jesus 
Christ, who is represented as the chief corner-stone 
of the building ; who delivers the doctrines, and pre- 
scribes the laws, and confirms the hopes, in the belief 
and power of which the christian edifice is sus- 
tained ; of Him, who is declared by his death to 
reconcile us to God. We shall be united in common 
relations and mutual services ; in the unity of the spirit, 
if not in precisely the same forms of belief; in single- 
ness of heart and in the fervor of charity ; in cares for 
each other's virtue, in labors for each other's welfare ; 
in zeal for a cause which God has hallowed, and for 
which the Son of God has poured out his blood. And, 
lastly, amidst the uncertainties and sorrows of our mor- 
tal life, the changes and trials which we must all in 
our turns experience as to the possessions and hopes of 
an uncertain world, we shall be united in looking upward 
to one unchanging source of strength and comfort. 
This world we shall regard as but the place of our pil- 
grimage, and heaven as our eternal home. Amidst the 
darkness of the present, we shall lift together the eye of 
faith, which Christ Jesus enlightens, towards God's holy 
temple ; and in the hope that through him, who is the 
resurrection and the life, it shall be the scene of an end- 
less glory, we shall labor to make all our sorrow and 
all our joy a ministry of good, and to bring our hearts 
and lives to a conformity with the character of those, to 
whom it is promised that they shall be made pillars in 
the temple of God, and shall rejoice in the light of his 
presence forever. 



263 

And when the christian temple is thus sustained, 
" compacted by that which every joint supplieth," in the 
faith, purity, charity, and hopes of its worshippers, how 
fair, how glorious is the spectacle ! 

" Beyond the pomp that charms the eyes, 
Or rites adorned with gold." 

Let us remember, brethren, that this temple is holy, 
which temple we are. For we are not strangers and 
foreigners, but fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the 
household of God. May we become a spiritual house, 
so that " God himself may desire us for an habitation, 
saying, This is my rest forever, and here will I dwell." 



PRAYER. 

Great and All-wise Creator, how shall we sufficiently 
show our gratitude to Thee for the frame of body and 
mind with which Thou hast endowed us ! O, that we 
may never dishonor the work of thy hand ! Grant us, 
merciful Father, thy gracious aid, that we may use in 
thy service the faculties which Thou gavest us in crea- 
tion, which Thou hast cultivated by thy Providence, and 
which Thou dost design to regenerate and bless by the 
instrumentality of the gospel. May the soul of each of 
us become a temple not wholly unfit for Thee to dwell in. 
May all its emotions be fitly and harmoniously framed 
together, till it reflects the image of our honored and 
glorified Lord. Aid us each to grow up into his divine 
likeness, with his devotedness to thy will, with the ardor 
and purity of his attachment to Thee, with the expan- 



264 

slveness and tenderness of his love to man, that we may, 
in our humble measure, share with him in thy divine 
favor and in the fruition of endless glory. Inexpres- 
sibly great is thy love. Divinely good is the constitu- 
tion of our nature. O may we rise to the full dignity of 
our calling. May we aspire to be as holy and blissful as 
Thou hast designed us to be, and as thy most effectual 
and benignant succor is fitted to make us. Called to 
be sons of God and heirs with Christ, may we steadily 
seek the great end of our present being, even the salva- 
tion of our souls : may we incessantly strive to divest 
ourselves of all evil, and to be filled with good, that when 
we die, and when we rise to judgment, Thou mayest 
remember the covenant of thy mercy, and receive us into 
everlasting mansions ; and this we beg through thy well- 
beloved Son, our Lord and Saviour. Amen. 



SERMON XVII 



THE FATHER'S JYJ1ME GLORIFIED IjY JESUS 
CHRIST. 



John xii. 28. 

FATHER, GLORIFY THY NAME. THEN CAME THERE A VOICE FROM 
HEAVEN, SAYING, I HAVE BOTH GLORIFIED IT, AND I WILL GLORIFY 
IT AGAIN." 



Jesus had entered in triumph the city, which, in four 
days, became the scene of his execution and his tomb. 
He had been hailed under the united titles of prophet 
and king by the acclaim of the multitudes, who present- 
ly muttered curses around his cross. At the moment 
when he breathed the prayer of my text, the dark pic- 
ture of approaching suffering, peopled as it was with 
the horrors most oppressive to a soul graced by the af- 
fections of humanity and the tenderness of piety, was 
sunk into deeper gloom by the brilliant promises of 
glory that rested on its confines. Since the time when 
the tempter had " showed him all the kingdoms of the 
world, and the glory of them," his beneficent ministry, 
spent chiefly amid the homes of his country, had pre- 
sented no trains of thought to interrupt his labors of 
34 



266 

heavenly love. But if there was anything that could 
re-awaken the visions of childhood, that could tempt out 
of their cells the slumbering thoughts of aggrandisement 
that could enkindle an earthly enthusiasm for national 
glory, it was that hour when he found himself the ob- 
ject of a triumphant procession, surrounded by the ex- 
citing voices of exultation, and called by thousands of 
glad hearts to fulfil the anticipations of ages ; when to 
damp these expectations was inevitable and speedy 
death; when the choice was to be made between a splen- 
did patriotism and a suffering philanthropy, and the 
step to be taken to the throne or to the grave. But 
the time when his imagination could even for a moment 
be dazzled by apparitions of greatness is past. The 
seducing spirit tries his once vanquished power in vain, 
though now he holds wo in the one hand as well as 
empire in the other. Jesus has taken up his purpose, 
the sublime purpose of self-sacrifice ; he has accepted 
his commission, to exhibit human nature in its depths 
and in its elevation, to show forth the calmness of a 
perfect mind in all transitions of circumstance ; and he 
walks down into the darker passages of his life with a 
spirit not indeed untouched by the gloom, but inwardly 
brightened by the remembrance of the light that still 
streams above. Hear his beautiful record of his feelings ; 
" Now is my soul troubled : and what shall I say ? Fa- 
ther, save me from this hour ? But for this cause came 
1 unto this hour : Father, glorify thy name." How 
would that troubled soul be calmed, how would its 
purposes of heavenly disinterestedness be invigorated by 
the approving and paternal voice, " I have both glori- 
fied it, and I will glorify it again ! " Let us seek in the 



mi 

life of Jesus for the truth of this announcement. It can 
hardly be necessary to remind you that, to glorify God 
does not mean to add to his inherent felicity : the prayer 
of Christ is offered, not for God, but for man ; it is the 
outpouring of benevolence, not of piety only. God is 
glorified by every thing that makes him known and 
loved by his creatures ; his glory is in their highest hap- 
piness ; and there is no happiness like that of seeing 
him as he is. 

I. God was glorified by the miracles of Jesus. They 
implanted in the minds of observers an impression of 
God's power and providence which nature never pro- 
duced. They established his sovereignty over creation, 
and his presence amid its scenes. The inference was 
irresistible, that He who could delegate to another the 
power to rebuke the winds and the waves, must habitu- 
ally raise the tempest and pour the blast, must make 
" the clouds his pavilion," and " his path in the great 
waters." He who could enable another to restore their 
lost functions to the blind eye and the useless limb, or 
to recal to the symmetry of nature the wild energies of 
madness, must hold and move the mechanism of life, and 
pervade and animate the world of mind. He who could 
send Moses and Elijah to commune on the Mount with 
the Messiah, whose 1 coming had closed the perspective 
of their prophetic vision, must dwell in the realm of 
spirits, and make its " angels ministers" of human good. 
He who could breathe into a word power to summon 
back the dead, must be supreme over the laws of vital- 
ity ; it must be He that " killeth and that maketh alive." 
No one who admits the miracles, can resist the infer- 
ence. Who that had witnessed the hurricane hushed 



268 

by a word, and the thunders of the sea soothed into the 
murmurs of a calm, would ever after walk upon the 
shore without feeling that over the expanse was spread 
a power " mightier than the mighty waters," in whose 
praise " the floods lift up their voice ?" Who that had 
seen the only son rise from his bier in the streets of 
Nain, and come back to cheer a parent's widowhood, 
could ever after stand by the bed of languishing, or gaze 
on the deserted shell of life, without feeling that around 
the pillow and near the grave was a power stronger than 
life and death, that administers to the heart the mys- 
teries of grief ? 

It is not, indeed, that God's agency is either more 
powerful or more immediate in a miracle than in an 
event of nature. To the eye of pure reason, God is 
glorified as much by the serenest sun of summer, as by 
the darkness that was " on the land from the sixth to 
the ninth hour ; " by the bestowment as by the restora- 
tion of life ; by the uninterrupted play of the healthy 
intellect, as by the re-establishment of order amid its 
most terrible confusion. If we could see in their true 
light, what are called second causes, God would be 
glorified supremely in the eternal mechanism of nature, 
whose order is the order of his infinite mind, and whose 
energies are but the movements of his will. He would 
be glorified even in the laws of suffering, which, though 
seeming to desolate his works, would yet appear to be 
but the instruments of love, developing from creation 
some greater good. But our minds slumber on the 
regularity of the universe. The repetition of an act 
blunts our perception of power in its production : with 
the discovery of order in the succession of events, arises 



269 

the association of cause and effect, and takes to itself all 
the ideas of power which had been connected with the 
unseen hand of Deity. So strong is this unreasoning; 
tendency of our minds to relinquish, in the frequency of 
an event, all questionings respecting its spiritual source, 
that even of natural phenomena, the more rare strike 
into the mind of the coolest philosopher an impression 
of power, which the ordinary changes of moons and 
seasons do not awaken. If an inland lake under a 
serene sky should rise from its bed, break up its vast 
sheet into all the riot of tempest, and come rolling over 
fields that never drank of its waters before, there are 
few, whose hearts would not be sia/ilecLby an emotion 
of natural religion ; whose astonishment would not be 
mingled with obscure notions of omnipotence ; who, to 
say the least, would not be nearer to the conception of 
divine power, than when gazing on the ebjb and flow 
of the ocean. ]|et less power is adequate to raise a tide 
upon a lake, anjU.to move the masses of the deep that 
forever ias^pfc'fiousand shores. The tempest, the vol- 
cano, the eclipse, carry men's thoughts to God more 
readily than the breezes of summer, or the vegeta- 
tion that crowns the mountain, or the uninterrupted 
light that is forever reaching us from other worlds. 
Yet God's power is not greater in the storm, than in a 
calm ; in the fiery torrents that bury fields and cities, 
than in the new creation that restores the verdure to 
the waste ; in the passage of a satellite across the sun, 
than in its motion through the unmarked spaces of its 
orbit. This effect of repetition on our minds, is not rea- 
son ; it is not philosophy ; it is our infirmity. If it be 
a mark of barbarian ignorance and superstition, to feel 



270 

the terrors of Deity in the rolling of the thunder, and to 
tremble at the spirit that whispers in the breeze, the 
ignorance, the superstition, consists, not in discovering 
the traces of Heaven here, but. in seeing them here only. 
The man requires, not to get rid of these emotions, but 
to diffuse them over all the changes of the outward 
world. His feelings are juster and truer than those of 
the philosopher who, while he had lost the devotional 
impulses of uncultivated nature, has failed to learn from 
his science to see God in every thing, and every thing in 
God. 

Now a miracle is no more than a single and unre- 
peated effect ; it has no frequency to bind up the feelings 
in sleep ; it is to all mankind what the convulsions and 
surprises of nature are to the barbarian ; and hence it 
irresistibly awakens the sense of power. Insulate any 
natural fact, and it becomes a miracle ; repeat any 
miracle, and it becomes a natural fact. If the sun had 
appeared stationary since the fall of Adam, its rising on 
the gardens of Paradise would have stood on record as 
the greatest miracle of Holy Writ, while its standing 
still in the valley of Ascalon would have awakened 
neither wonder nor doubt. Beautifully does God's be- 
nignity accommodate his revelations even to the weak- 
nesses of our minds. It signifies not that his power is 
gloriously exerted in every change of the outward 
world ; it signifies not that perfected reason would see 
in the universe a temple pervaded by the living energies 
of Deity. If man discerns not these manifestations, 
God is not glorified : if man slumbers on these evi- 
dences, it is worthy of Divine love to awake him with 
the thunder-clap of power, to gratify his yearnings after 



271 

the supernatural, and thus feed the sentiments of piety 
which are lulled to rest by the harmonies of creation. 
God, then, was glorified in the miracles of Jesus, be- 
cause they enkindled in men's hearts a reverential sense 
of his sovereignty. 

But the miracles of Christ had a moral character too, 
which contributed to the glory of God. They are a se- 
ries of divine acts, which belong more to the charac- 
ter of God than to that of Jesus ; or rather which can- 
not be dissociated from either, for " what things soev- 
er" the Father " doeth, these doeth the Son also." 
Where there is a perfect unity of will, it is difficult to 
ascribe to either being exclusively the act of volition 
which gives to the miracle its moral aspect. Here Je- 
sus " and the Father are one," and we may safely in- 
terpret the mind of both, from the supernatural events 
which attested the mission of the one, and unfolded the 
purposes of the other. Perhaps Jesus never wrought a 
miracle without an act of accepted prayer to Him, "who 
heard him always," or without a special impulse sug- 
gesting the particular exercise of power. If this be so, 
then we may argue to the character of God from the 
character of Christ's miracles, as securely as from the 
adjustments of creation. Nay, more so; for the mira- 
cles were put forth expressly as the means of revelation; 
they were specially addressed to men's religious con- 
ceptions ; events exclusively didactic ; selected for the 
very purpose of being ascribed to God : and we may 
therefore suppose that they justly represent the attri- 
butes of the Being from whom they proceed. And what 
were the moral features of these acts ? Compassion, deep 
compassion for the physical ills and mental sorrows of hu- 



272 

inanity ; an impartial beneficence, which rewarded the pi- 
ous faith of the alien, and pitied exile and disease in the 
grateful Samaritan as well as in the thankless Israelite ; 
an affectionate mercy, which, after bearing with the pas- 
sionate importunities of penitence, pronounced the sen- 
tence of forgiveness on the sinner who " loved much." 
These deeds of love are declaratory of God's character. 
Could they proceed from a being whose curse over- 
shadowed the creation, Who is callous to the agonised 
cry of overwhelmed guilt, who relents only on the pay- 
ment of the uttermost farthing ? Could they proceed 
from a Being who traffics in the woes of his creatures, 
and, when he has extorted from innocence as much as 
he has given to guilt, demands a universal homage for 
his clemency ? Impossible ! God's name is not thus 
glorified, but shrouded in dreadful gloom. Learn rath- 
er his character from its emanations in the beneficent 
miracles of Jesus : and when you read of light poured 
on the blind, the staff of the lame cast away, the unnat- 
ural flashes of ruined intellect exchanged for the mild 
lustre of steady reason, the terrors of perishing nature 
assuaged, the sobs of bereavement hushed in the .trans- 
sports of reunion, see there the image of the Father, 
the generous and compassionate Father of our nature, 
whose most glorious name is love. 

II. God was glorified by the teachings of Christ. 
The highest speculations of the purest philosophy, the 
dreams of reason approaching the confines of inspiration, 
never furnished a picture of the divine Being like that 
drawn in the teachings of Jesus. Even the noblest 
strains of the great minstrel of Israel grow discordant 
in comparison with this beautiful harmony. Philoso- 



273 

phy, in its delineations of Deity, was always too timid 
in drawing ideas from human nature ; mythology was 
too daring: the one produced a cold, distant, unafFecting 
Divinity ; the other a revolting assemblage of vices 
dilated to the magnitude of the preternatural. When 
Jesus illustrates the character of God, he draws deep 
from the purest fountains of the human mind. There is 
scarce anything tender in the relations of life, anything 
melting in the love, and noble in the impulses, and 
attractive to the affections of our nature, from which he 
has not borrowed an elucidation of God's attributes. 
The master that freely forgives the offending servant, 
the father who goes forth to meet the repentant child, 
the impartial Spirit who opens an approach to himself, 
not from this mountain or that temple, but from every 
heart, the living Guardian of creation who paints the 
lily of the field and sees the sparrow when it falls, 
these are the representations on which Jesus teaches us 
to frame our conceptions of our Heavenly Father. He 
loves all, and all equally ; sends his rain and sunshine 
even on the unthankful and the evil. If he ever makes 
distinctions among his creatures, if he gathers one 
people within his special fold, it is not that he is a 
respecter of persons ; it is only to spread more widely 
and more rapidly the truths which will ultimately 
encircle all by one chain of love ; he separates only to 
unite. He conducts all things to issues of good ; im- 
plants in each of us the germ of imperishable life ; opens 
to all the glories of the heavens and the earth, and the 
yet fairer glories of his own nature, under which to 
unfold the principle of immortality ; and prepares for 
all that mighty receptacle of spirits which will eternize 
35 



274 

whatever is beautiful and good in man and in creation. 
By these views God is glorified in Christ; — glorified, 
because they make his rational creatures happy ; because 
they are the life of human virtue, the heaven of human 
peace. 

The manner of Christ's teachings contributed to the 
glory of God scarcely less than their matter. They are 
not imparted in the rigid and inanimate forms of logic ; 
they are not announced as abstract and oracular propo- 
sitions ; they are not given in the prolixity of ethical 
disquisition. There they are ; a series of appeals to 
human nature, and extracts from human life ; an array 
or inimitable pictures which paint themselves on the 
imagination, and live there when reason is too tired to 
think : they rise before the mind in weakness and in 
sorrow, and charm most when the sensitive nature is 
most deeply touched. All feel them, for they are 
addressed to those attributes of our nature with God 
develops in all ; all love them, for they appeal to those 
generous moral susceptibilities which are entwined with 
the affections of the rudest mind, which education 
deepens, and the refinements of purified taste soften, 
mature and perfect. The man who can read them 
without rapture and without love, is an object of just 
compassion, is destitute of those sympathies which are 
the light, the solace, the hope of our frail but noble na- 
ture. 

III. God was glorified by the character of Jesus. 

That character was God's work. He provided the 
influences, whether natural or supernatural, by which it 
was moulded and perfected. He created the blameless 
home at Nazareth in whose retirement childhood might 



275 

nestle its innocence unharmed. He planted in the 
heart of Mary a love which harmonized the sympathies 
of home and heaven, and gathered a filial affection on 
herself, that she might be the vehicle to bear it aloft to 
the better Parent above. He called Jesus into life 
where alone was opened a pathway to himself. He 
spread before him the oracles of his supernatural provi- 
dence, where his mind could rove through the miracles 
of history, and his imagination commune with the mag- 
nificence of prophecy. He placed him in a land replete 
with the memorials of Jehovah's power ; whose horizon 
was the desert once traversed by the pillar of cloud and 
fire; in which he might walk over the ruins of '-the 
cities of the plain," or stand near " the gate of heaven " 
where angels passed before the patriarch's dream, or 
wander by the stream whose waters had opened to the 
prophet's rod, or gaze on the spot where the mantle fell 
from Elijah's ascending chariot of fire. He summoned 
him to the desert where " in the beginning " he was 
" with God," and in whose moral " suffering " he was 
made perfect ; where his views were corrected and 
elevated, the last earthly images that might cluster 
round the hope of the Messiah were chased away, the 
love of Israel was expanded to the love of man, the 
expectations of glory transferred from earth to heaven, 
and the commission was received to bear to every living 
mind that presence of grace and glory which hitherto 
had rested between the cherubim. Thus did God draw 
around Jesus that sacred circle of influences, which, 
illumined and perfected by continued inspiration, set 
him apart from the moral alloys of human nature, and 
made him that " light which enlightened everv one that 
cometh into the world." 



276 

The character of Jesus is God's image. It must be 
so, if it be his work; if it came from his mind, it is the 
expression of that mind. God indeed must be better 
than his best work. In him are none of the causes of 
fluctuation, none of the conflicting principles, which 
make man inferior to his noblest thoughts, and create 
discord between his character and his ideas of right. 
An infinite Being can never fall below his own concep- 
tions ; what he is at one moment, he is for ever. The 
divine mind is now, and ever will be, as pure a fountain 
of the beautiful and beneficent and good, as at that 
blessed time when he issued forth Jesus for the refresh- 
ing of the nations. But besides this, Christ, considered 
as perfected human nature, is the image of God. Human 
nature is the original teacher of the divine character ; 
for how can we think of Deity but as the concen- 
tration of all the moral glories which awaken our 
admiration and love in human kind ? Here our model 
is full of the taint of imperfection. In Jesus the imper- 
fections of the model are withdrawn. In him God 
issues forth a new creation, a fresh exhibition of the 
mind, with moral proportions perfect, and possessing 
its last finish of refinement and power. From him 
then we may henceforth derive our imaginings of God : 
and in looking to him, we are virtually aspiring towards 
that towering pinnacle of excellence which rises far 
above all sight of created minds. And in thus being 
the image of the invisible God, Jesus glorifies his Father's 
name. When we see him soothing the sorrows of 
penitence, what more interesting illustration do we 
require of the Being who " fans the smoking flax, and 
will not break the bruised reed ? " When he gently 



277 

moves through the house of mourning, and, in yielding 
the sympathy of friendship, imparts also the truth of 
God, what juster representative can we find of that 
chastening compassion which refines the earthly spirit 
of its children by bereavement, and opens a way through 
the sorrows of nature for the light of heaven ? 

Thus, then, had Jesus " glorified " his " Father's 
name." And abundantly was the promise fulfilled, that 
it should be " glorified again." He " glorified it again " 
by his majestic serenity amid the insult and mockery of 
the judgment hall, for he displayed the moral power of 
true views of God's government. He "glorified it 
again " amid the agonies of the cross P for there, having 
exhibited human duty in action and in life, he shows 
its aspect in suffering and death ; and exemplifies the 
triumph of spiritual energy over outward anguish, of 
love over malignity, of faith over nature's fears and the 
grave's terrors. He "glorified it again " when he rose 
again and passed through trial to glory ; for then the 
great problem of providence was solved, and the per- 
plexities of ages removed, and it was seen how one in 
whom heaven was " well pleased " could be "smitten of 
God and afflicted " on earth, because there is a heaven to 
receive him risen, recompensed, exalted and immortal. 
He " glorified it again " in the influences which he has 
transmitted down the course of time ; in the beneficent 
institutions which his gospel has called into being, and 
the purified moral atmosphere which it has spread 
around human society ; in the virtues which his 
character has created, and the great minds which it has 
formed ; for if it be his religion which, from the dark 
ocean of the past, has called up those scattered lights of 



278 

beneficence in which the world has for a season rejoiced, 
if it be his philanthropy that made a Howard, his 
heaven that inspired a Milton, his purity that touched 
the soul of a Fenelon ; then has he imparted the best 
gifts of God to man, and " in him the love of God is 
perfected " towards us. 

And the disciple of Christ, too, may glorify the 
Father's name. If his Lord's miracles and teachings 
are not imitable, his character is. Upon what, principle 
can the Christian appeal to any other measure of moral 
good ? How does he dare, in questions of right and 
wrong, to plead the laws of fashion and the approving 
sentiments of the world ? " What would the Lord Jesus 
think?" " How would the Lord Jesus do ?" are questions 
which supersede all reference to inferior oracles of duty. 
If from the heart of life's activities, if from the depth of 
its cares, if from the shadows of its griefs, our imagi- 
nations now and then placed suddenly before them Jesus 
with his meek serenity, the fruit of communion with 
God and eternity, he would rise before us, a living con- 
science, to rebuke, to enlighten, to purify. How would 
the grasp of avarice be relaxed by the frequent remem- 
brance of him who spake of imperishable treasures I 
How would the eager chase of honor be moderated by 
the thought of him who, amid the hosannas of the mul- 
titude, wept over his fated country ! How would the 
passions which centre on the present be cooled by the 
vision of him whom we see standing on the confines of 
the grave, and inviting our spirits to their home ! How 
would the selfishness which chills our hearts be. melted 
by the habitual thought -of him whose benevolence was 
the image of the God that dwelleth in love ! How 



281 

the name of Jesus Christ, who is the way, the truth, 
and the life ; and through him ascribe unto Thee glory 
and praise eternal. Amen. 
36 



SERMON XVIIJ. 



OJST SINCERITY. 



2 Corinthians i. 12. 

OUR REJOICING IS THIS, THE TESTIMONY OF OUR CONSCIENCE, THAT IN 
SIMPLICITY AND GODLY SINCERITY, NOT WITH FLESHLY WISDOM, BUT 
BY THE GRACE OF GOD, WE HAVE HAD OUR CONVERSATION IN THE 
WORLD." 



Another would have said, My rejoicing is this, the 
testimony of the world, that by my knowledge of its 
ways and an adroit use of circumstances, I have suc- 
ceeded in my favorite projects of amassing wealth, of 
increasing my power, of rising to a high elevation on 
the steeps of ambition. But what does the great Apostle 
say is the subject of his self-gratulation ? The testi- 
mony — not of the world, not of partial friends or inter- 
ested admirers— but of that faithful monitor and honest 
judge which dwelt in his own heart. This was to him 
a source of ineffable, inexhaustible delight. And what 
did this monitor and judge testify ? That in simplicity, 
or singleness of heart, and in such sincerity as might be 
witnessed and approved by the spirit of truth — not by 
that carnal policy which the world calls wisdom, but in 
the laudable exercise of those talents, in the proper use 






283 

of those spiritual gifts with which he was signally en- 
dowed, he had lived among men and preserved his 
integrity pure. The example of the Apostle is entitled 
to our praise, and eminently worthy of our imitation. 
May it ever be our honest boast, as it was his, that we 
pass our lives in simplicity and godly sincerity ! 

Sincerity is the virtue to which, on this occasion, I 
would invite your special attention ; as it is not only a 
great moral virtue, but a distinguished evangelical grace ; 
essential to the character of every just man, and of every 
honorable man, of every worshipper of God, of every 
disciple of Christ. Hence is it so strenuously enjoined 
in the sacred volume. Hence does Joshua exhort the 
Israelites to " fear and serve the Lord in sincerity." 
The Apostle Paul desires the Corinthians to " keep the 
feast (the Lord's Supper) with the unleavened bread of 
sincerity ; " and in his instructions to Timothy, he enjoins 
him to show in his doctrine uncorruptness, gravity, 
sincerity. All of us may consider his words as address- 
ed to ourselves, when he says, " As of sincerity in the 
sight of God, speak ye." This virtue, is inseparable 
from the heart and mind of all who worship the Father 
in spirit and in truth. It is a radical principle in the 
constitution of every virtuous society — the soul of union, 
of co-operation, of friendship, of love, of piety, of devo- 
tion. Without it there is no morality, no religion. 
Without it, that which wears "the form of godliness," 
is rank hypocrisy ; generosity, selfishness ; bravery, 
cowardice ; truth, falsehood ; and honesty a cheat. 

What then, let us inquire, is the nature of this vir- 
tue, and what are its requisitions ? 

The term sincere, in its primary and physical sense, 



284 

was applied to substances of homogeneous quality ; as 
to honey pure from the wax.* In its moral application, 
it has a sense analogous to this, and implies a clearness 
and transparency of character. It is among the virtues 
as the diamond among precious stones ; and, as the 
Greek of the term intimates, " can bear examination in 
the full splendor of the solar rays."f He with whom 
it dwells, and on whom its influence acts, always de- 
sires to appear what he really is — neither adorned nor 
disfigured by meretricious colors — neither weaker nor 
stronger — more beautiful nor more deformed. He speaks 
as he thinks. He uses language, not as the world's di- 
plomatist, to conceal, but to interpret his thoughts. 
His heart is the dictator of his tongue. He deals not 
in idle or unmeaning professions. He inspires no 
hope which he does not intend to fulfil. He sub- 
scribes no creed or doctrine which he does not con- 
scientiously believe. He makes no pharisaical state- 
ments, nor publishes exaggerated reports of the growing 
prosperity of a favorite cause, or of the decline of an 
obnoxious cause. He does " not extenuate, nor set 
down aught in malice." Honest as a friend, honest as 
a foe, he speaks what he knows or what he believes to 
be true ; and neither by word or deed endeavors to 
gain credit for the possession of moral or intellectual 
endowments to which the testimony of conscience does 
not assure him that he has a fair indisputable claim. 

But though the law of sincerity imperatively forbids 
all deception, it does not oblige us to lay our whole 
hearts open to the scrutiny of every curious eye, nor 

* Sincerus quasi, sine cera. t Parkhurst. 



285 

loudly to divulge every unseasonable truth which may 
occupy our minds : when we cannot praise, it is surely 
more prudent to be silent ; and though it would be gross 
hypocrisy to extol what our true judgment would con- 
demn, there can be no violation of sincerity in main- 
taining a proper reserve, provided such reserve does not 
lead our friend or neighbor to a wrong conclusion ; to 
trust when he should doubt, or to lay open his bosom 
when he should cover it with triple mail. We are under 
no obligation to give offence, or provoke enmity. There 
are cases in which it would be extreme cruelty to di- 
vulge all we have heard or known of a neighbor's mis- 
fortunes or misconduct — cases over which charity would 
spread her veil, and kindly consign them to oblivion. 
But if our silence would be the means of injuring a 
friend, or leading an honest man into a villain's snare, 
it is surely incumbent on us to break through our reserve. 
We should act here by the golden rule, and do for our 
neighbor as we should wish him, in like circumstances, 
to do for us, — rouse his suspicions, and place him on 
his guard. As for our own faults and imperfections, we 
are not bound by any law to blazon them to the world. 
Well, if they do not make themselves sufficiently con- 
spicuous without any attempt on our part to obtrude 
them on public observation. What is required of us 
here, is not to pretend to virtues foreign to our charac- 
ter, nor make a gorgeous and beautiful display without, 
when conscious that all within is foulness and deformity. 
Numberless are the deceptions which are practised, 
every day, by men upon men, and by men on them- 
selves. As to the latter, it is but too notorious with 
what ingenuity they disguise their vices, to conceal 



286 

them, if possible, from their own observation, or smooth 
them down and varnish them over till they assume the 
semblance of virtues, of venial faults, or amiable weak- 
nesses. Who knows not what a false estimate the Apos- 
tle Peter had formed of his own resolution and fidelity, till 
the crowing of the cock awoke his slumbering conscience, 
and the Saviour's look dispelled his dreamy delusion ? 
Who does not remember the conduct of David, in the 
affair of Uriah — his apathy and self-complacency, under 
an enormous load of guilt, till the words of the prophet, 
like the muttering of thunder, like the rush of the 
lightning, broke the unhallowed spell, and flashed with 
conviction on the darkness of his soul ? To such delu- 
sions have great men, and good men, and pious men 
sometimes suffered themselves to be subjected by " the 
deceitfulness of sin;" and such, at the same time, is 
their veneration for virtue, that they can scarcely be 
persuaded, even when they offend most heinously, that 
they transgress her laws. Hence the great importance 
of the precept, "Know thyself ;" and hence we are 
exhorted in holy writ to consider our ways ; to examine 
and to judge our own hearts ; to pray to God to enable 
us to understand our errors ; to cleanse us from all 
our secret faults ; to search and to try us ; to see if 
there be any wicked way in us, and guide us in his 
ways everlasting. 

Not less varied, nor less numerous, are the modes 
in which men practise insincerity towards others, than 
towards themselves ; and hence we may trace this vice 
through a hundred different shades, from the light tints 
of a false complaisance, to the dark and malignant hues 
of hypocrisy and falsehood, of fraud and perjury. 



287 

Courtesy is a christian virtue, beautiful and amiabie ; 
and we are enjoined to be courteous to all men. It is 
not opposed to sincerity, but to coarseness and vulgarity. 
The insincerity of which we speak has the semblance of 
courtesy, but it is courtesy in excess. It is learned in 
the school of deceit, in the court of fashion. Its lan- 
guage is harmonious as music, sweetly mellifluous as 
honey dew, but so destitute of real meaning, that he 
who trusts it must be a novice or a fool blinded by adu- 
lation, or deluded by vanity. It promises kingdoms in 
the sudden overflowings of the heart, but leaves the 
hungry expectant to starve. It breathes the very spirit 
of affectionate regard this moment, and in the next has 
forgotten that you exist. It extols you while present 
as the very god of its idolatry, but when absent, you 
are made the theme of its ridicule and its sneers. It 
becomes, in the worst sense of the expression, " all things 
to all men ;" not in the evangelical sense of charitable 
accommodation or prudent tolerance of their tempers 
and prejudices, to win them over to the cause of God 
and his Christ, but to trifle with their simplicity and 
prey on their indiscretion. Custom, the continuator 
of many an evil practice, has given its sanction to 
a certain species of phraseology which is termed 
polite, and which by general agreement is understood 
to signify nothing ; nevertheless a regard for christian 
sincerity should induce us io employ it with caution. 
There are also tricks and deceptions in certain trans- 
actions, which, by a similar convention, are supposed 
to be accompanied by no moral turpitude; nay, the 
dexterity with which they are conducted, confers the 
highest praise on their agent. But is it not evident 



288 

to every christian man, that let such transactions re- 
ceive whatever sanction they may from custom and 
the world, they are totally unauthorized by the word 
of God, which is the Christian's standard of right 
and wrong ; nay, that the very talents displayed in their 
execution, only lay a greater weight of condemna- 
tion on their author ; for had he turned those talents to 
a proper use, had he traded with them in a fair and 
honorable way. he would have gained the same or 
greater advantages, with the sanction of his own con- 
science, with the approbation of his divine master. The 
christian rule is, " Be not fashioned according to this 
world : but be ye transformed by the renewing of your 
mind, so that ye may search out what is the good and 
acceptable and perfect will of God." 

It has been maintained, in opposition to the godly 
sincerity of the Apostle, that dissimulation may be 
lawfully practised for the establishment of some useful 
design — to promote a movement in politics, or confirm 
a doctrine in religion — (religion spurns the idea,) — and 
that if the end be laudable or beneficial, the means are 
indifferent. This opinion, founded as it is on ignorance 
and sin, has been productive of much evil. It seems so 
specious, that it is easily believed by the credulous and 
unreflecting, as well as by the fraudulent. They pic- 
ture to their imaginations the advantages of the propos- 
ed good, and persuade themselves that if this only can 
be attained, it will amply justify the most unwarranta- 
ble means. But they are directly opposed to the Di- 
vine law, which forbids evil to be done on any account 
or pretext whatever. In all cases, it is our duty to act 
as honesty and truth demand, and leave the event to 



289 

Him who alone can give a prosperous issue to all hu- 
man undertakings. Employ what means we may, we 
cannot be certain that the anticipated consequence will 
follow. Though one may sow, and another water, it 
belongs to God alone to give the increase. If we do 
evil, knowingly, no matter with what intention, we must 
incur guilt ; and at the same time, perhaps, we may be 
pursuing the most effectual mode of frustrating our in- 
tended object. Evil means seldom fail to be termina- 
ted by evil ends. The impure fountain must send forth 
an impure stream. Even when the end in view is real- 
ly to be desired, if vicious means be employed to effect 
it, they excite a just and natural suspicion that it has 
some ulterior object which is selfish and sinistrous. 
Whatever is really honest and true stands firm on its 
own foundation, and requires not the support of vice and 
falsehood. Where the end is really good, let it be at- 
tained by such means as wisdom will approve ; where 
not, let it be abandoned as visionary or impracticable. 
Moreover, how often are we mistaken in the nature of 
true good ? How often is that which we contemplate 
as beautiful and lovely, regarded by others as deformed 
and odious ? They may foresee nothing but misery in 
the very project from which we anticipate happiness. 
Now should we think it justifiable to pursue our design 
by dissimulation and artifice, they might think them- 
selves equally justifiable to overthrow it by similar agen- 
cy, and erect their own plan on the ruin of ours. They 
might contend that it was not only equitable, but mer- 
itorious, to oppose the deceiver by deceit, to foil him 
by his own weapons, or ensnare him in his own net. 
But what evils would not such an action and reaction 
37 



290 

of bad principles introduce into society ? Mutual con- 
fidence would be at an end ; all community of interests 
would be at an end ; all concert of operation would be 
at an end ; all would be one wide scene of deception 
and imposture. Every man would be intent in turning 
the credulity of his neighbor to his own profit, if in such 
a case any one could be credulous : insomuch that, at 
length, we should find our situation as deplorable as that 
so well described in holy writ : " They bend their 
tongue like their bow for lies ; but they are not valiant 
for the truth upon the earth ; for they proceed from evil 
to evil, and they know not me, saith the Lord. Take 
ye heed every one of his neighbor, and trust not in any 
brother ; for every brother will utterly supplant ; and 
every neighbor will walk with slanders. And they will 
deceive every one his neighbor, and will not speak the 
truth. They have taught their tongue to speak lies ; 
they weary themselves to commit iniquity. Their hab- 
itation is in the midst of deceit, they refuse to know me, 
saith the Lord." 

Sincerity is the characteristic of a noble and magnan- 
imous disposition, as much as its opposite vice is the 
indication of what is mean and ungenerous. A brave 
man disdains to hang out false colors, to take unfair 
advantage even of an enemy ; to appear what he is not, 
and by decorating himself in borrowed virtues, lay 
claim to honors which he is conscious he does not de- 
serve : though he may not be above reproach in other 
respects, his pride will guard him, at least, from the 
humiliation of being levelled to the condition of a knave. 
It has been observed of the weaker animals, that nature 
gives them cunning in place of strength. The lion roars 



291 

through the forest to give intelligence of his approach ; 
but the fox steals in secrecy and silence on his unsuspect- 
ing prey. The brave man stands boldly forward in 
the face of day, to challenge investigation; while the 
dastard hies to fold himself in the darkness of dissimu- 
lation and the mysteries of fraud. a For every one that 
doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh to the light, 
lest his deeds should be reproved. But he that doeth 
truth, cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made 
manifest, that they are wrought in God. ? ' 

As insincerity vitiates every virtue, it disappoints 
every hope ; for it is written, " The hypocrite's hope 
shall perish, his trust shall be a spider's web. He shall 
lean upon his house, but it shall not stand ; he shall 
hold it fast, but it shall not endure." The motives of 
a man's conduct often lie nearer the surface than he 
imagines, even when he deems them most profound : 
and hence it happens that almost every species of im- 
position is so soon and so easily detected. The base 
metal peers through the superficial gilding, and betrays 
the counter to the most common observation. Indeed, 
such is the difficulty of supporting an assumed charac- 
ter, with any degree of credit, even for a short time, 
that he who would succeed in the attempt, must have 
very superior talents and ingenuity : for he must be 
in danger from a variety of circumstances — from the 
suspicion of the world, the perfidy of his confidant, and 
the inconsistency of himself. He acts under painful 
and unnatural restraint, being obliged to keep his tongue 
at continual variance with his heart, and to deny to-day 
what he but affirmed the day before. For nature, still 
endeavoring to gain the ascendancy over art, will 



292 

sometimes triumph ; and therefore, truth, which is the 
language of nature, will sometimes be heard in defiance 
of every exertion to keep it suppressed. An untoward 
circumstance, an unlucky expression, a disappointed 
look will create suspicion and betray the cheat. Add 
to this, that the insincere man being once found out, is, 
ever after, an object of distrust. His intentions are 
questioned, when they are really honest, and he is sup- 
posed to have some latent or sinister design even when 
he is acting with openness and candor. "A lying 
tongue is but for a moment, but the life of truth shall 
be established for ever." A third evil which he is 
doomed to experience, is the dread of his own art. 
He thinks himself in constant danger of imposition, and 
transferring his own evil thoughts to his neighbor, 
contemplates a spy in every face, and fears a detector 
in every corner. He enjoys no security in his own 
breast ; but is still haunted by the apprehension of 
having his name coupled with certain epithets and asso- 
ciations not very gratifying to the feelings of an hon- 
orable man. His own heart upbraids him, and testifies 
that there is little gratification in the consciousness of 
having practised a successful imposition, or acted an un- 
worthy part to those who had the simplicity to confide 
in his candor and integrity. 

Such are the mischiefs of insincerity, its fallacy and 
insecurity, its suspicion and its punishment. The ben- 
efits of its opposite virtue, equally striking and numer- 
ous, are enhanced by the contrast. Sincerity is intrin- 
sically amiable, and does not fail to win the love, or at 
least to challenge the esteem, even of those to whom its 
voice is not always agreeable. For " faithful are the 



293 

wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are de- 
ceitful." We often ascribe more merit to roughness and 
bluntness of manner than may be their just due, from 
the solitary consideration that they are honest. The 
coarse exterior of the diamond does not destroy its real 
worth ; but what polish can give intrinsic value to the 
bauble of paste ? 

The sincere man is fearless and consistent. He dreads 
no scrutiny : he is under no apprehension of being caught 
in the snare of his own contradictions : he feels con- 
scious that the more closely you inspect him, the strong- 
er will grow your conviction of his integrity and truth : 
so that, even from selfish motives, it would be wise al- 
ways to act sincerely. If we have any object to pro- 
mote, which we think can be effected only by adopting 
the semblance of some virtue, instead of the semblance 
let us adopt the reality, and our chance of success will 
assuredly be greatly increased. If to appear to be fill- 
ed with the spirit of piety and endowed with the moral 
virtues be desirable, it must be much more so to have 
that piety and those virtues truly lodged in the heart. 
If the shadow be inestimable, how much more the sub- 
stance ? If those insignificant and perishable advanta- 
ges which the deceiver promises himself from a violation 
of the laws of God, be worth his time and labor, the risk 
of character and the reproaches of conscience, how much 
more worthy of all the toils of the head and all the de- 
votedness of the heart, must be those real blessings, both 
temporal and eternal, which are the certain rewards of 
truth and rectitude ? Why build on the sand, when our 
edifice may be constructed on a foundation of rock ? 

Were we to consider the virtue which is the subject 



294 

of our present commendation, only in a worldly point of 
view, it has every inducement which can operate on 
minds most susceptible of the influence of worldly 
motives. But he who wishes to regulate his conduct 
by higher and nobler views, by christian principles of 
love to God and love to man, will be influenced in a small 
degree, if at all, by such considerations," Through " the 
promise of the life that now is," should not be despised, 
he has another more powerful and attractive motive in the 
promise of the "life tocome ;" another criterion of action 
than the smiles or the frowns of the world, in the dictates 
of reason, and in the admonitions of conscience, as en- 
lightened and directed by the oracles of God. He feels 
determined to act, in all circumstances, as the voice of 
duty directs, to say and to do what he believes to be 
true and just, fearless of consequences, or leaving them 
to the great Disposer of events ; knowing that while 
men look only on the outward appearance, God looketh 
on the heart, and desireth truth in the inward parts. 
David prays that he may have a clean heart, and that a 
right spirit may be renewed within him. In describing 
a citizen of Zion, in the fifteenth Psalm, the principal 
qualifications on which he dwells, are sincerity of heart 
and honesty of speech : " Lord, who shall abide in thy 
tabernacle, who shall dwell in thy holy hill ? He that 
walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and 
speaketh the truth in his heart. He that backbiteth 
not with his tongue, nor doeth evil to his neighbor, nor 
taketh up a reproach against his neighbor. He that 
sweareth to his own hurt, and changeth not." What a 
different description of character is this from that of the 
Pharisees ! Their besetting sin was hypocrisy. Their 



295 

whole lives were a tissue of deceit. They neither 
thought, nor spoke, nor acted, but with a view to pro- 
duce some imposing effect. When they gave alms, they 
proclaimed their generosity by sound of trumpet, to 
have glory of men. They prayed standing in the 
synagogues, and in the corners of the streets, that they 
might be seen of men. When they fasted, they put on 
a rueful visage and disfigured their faces, that they 
might appear unto men to fast. Our blessed Saviour, 
to whom every species of trick and artifice was an 
abomination, desires us to pursue an entirely opposite 
course : when we do alms, not to let our left hand 
know what the right hand doeth ; when we pray, to 
enter into our closet and shut the door, and pray to Him 
who seeth in secret ; and when we fast, to wash the 
head and anoint the face, and to wear a countenance 
animated by the cheerful light of piety, that we appear 
not unto men to fast, but unto our Father who is in 
secret, and our Father who seeth in secret will reward 
us openly. There is not a single vice mentioned in the 
gospel, on which our Lord is so unsparing of his rebuke, 
as on hypocrisy, or of which he cautions us to beware in 
terms more energetic. Nor are we to wonder at this, 
for what vice is so nauseous, so disgusting, so utterly 
repugnant to every virtuous and religious feeling ? No 
wonder that the Son of God, the Son of Him who is 
permanent and essential truth, should array the terrors of 
the Lord against it, and launch upon it all the lightnings 
of his indignation. 

Well does our great poet ascribe the origin of this 
vice to the Father of lies, the 



296 

" Artificer of fraud — the first 

That practised falsehood under saintly show, 

Deep malice to conceal, couched with revenge." 

And well does he describe it thus : 

" Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks 

Invisible, except to God alone, 

By his permissive will, through heaven and earth. 

And oft though wisdom wakes, suspicion sleeps 

At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity 

Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill 

Where no ill seems." 

True ; but suspicion sometimes, yea oftentimes, also 
awakes suddenly and unexpectedly, and dogs the fiend, 
till the light touch of some Ithuriel's spear exposes the 
cheat, in all his hideousness, to merited shame and pun- 
ishment. 

Nothing is more abhorrent to the whole spirit of 
Christianity than every species of hypocrisy, whether 
in word, in deed, cr in dumb show, from whatever 
motive it proceeds, or on whatsoever pretence it is prac- 
tised. Hypocrisy is the most efficient agent of Anti- 
christ, and it has done more injury to the cause of 
Christianity, than the most decided open hostility. It 
works by sap, and effects its wicked purposes by ma- 
noeuvring in the dark. It supplants, where it cannot 
overcome, and on pretence of rendering a service to the 
state, but with the real design of securing the thirty 
pieces of silver, betrays the son of man with a kiss. On 
similar pretences, and for similar objects, are innumera- 
ble religious errors fostered and rewarded. Hence the 
prevalence of holy dissimulation and pious frauds, of a 
hypocritical conformity to fashionable doctrines, of pro- 
fession of belief in incredible absurdities, of many of the 
superstitions by which the beauty of religion is deformed, 



297 

the progress of evangelical truth impeded, and its influ- 
ence on human conduct destroyed. Let men only dare 
to he valiant for the truth, and the truth will prevail, 
and the truth will make them free — free from the humi- 
liation of stooping beneath the dignity of their nature 
to assume a character not their own. Let the nominal 
conformist drop the mask which he has the meanness 
and the cowardice to wear in complaisance to the powers 
that be. Let the subscriber to creeds, which he neither 
understands nor believes, abjure them for that gospel 
which maketh wise unto salvation. Let the church 
aspirant, instead of yielding to the power of Mammon 
and contending to perpetuate established errors, be 
actuated by the nobler ambition of assisting to dethrone 
spiritual wick^jtness from its high places, and to elevate 
the cross of Christ above the crown of ecclesiastical 
usurpation. Let all men, whose souls are capable of 
feeling the force of truth, or discerning the beauty of 
virtue, learn to contemn the flatterer's smile, the syco- 
phant's grimace, the hypocrite's sanctimonious cant, and 
let their arts be paid with the appropriate reward of 
such fruits as " writhed the jaws " of the apostate spirits, 
"apples of Sodom, fair to the sight, with soot and cin- 
ders filled." Of false teachers and their lying doctrines 
we are cautioned by the Apostle Paul to beware, when 
he says : " The spirit speaketh expressly, that in the 
latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving 
heed to seducing spirits and doctrines of demons, 
speaking lies in hypocrisy, having their conscience seared 
with a hot iron," — 1 Tim. iv. 1, 2, 3. It was the Apos- 
tle's rejoicing, to have the approving testimony of con- 
science ; but the hypocrite can never enjoy this most 
38 



298 

delightful of all feelings, his conscience being cauterized 
and rendered callous, not only to all the finer impressions 
of moral sentiment, but to the stigma of shame and the 
burning brand, of infamy. 

The Apostles of Christ, as' became the disciples of 
such a master, equally with him condemn hypocrisy, and 
are earnest in their commendation of truth, honesty, 
candor, sincerity. They desire us to have respect to 
God in all our actions, and whatsoever we do, to do it 
heartily unto the Lord, and not as unto men. This is 
the true principle of a christian's conduct ; not the law 
of man, not the approbation of man, but the law of God, 
the approbation of God. He feels a practical conviction 
that the ways of man are before the eyes of the Lord, 
who pondereth all his doings ; that it is to him, the 
supreme Judge, they must be finally accountable. 
Therefore, it would be no reason for him to aet contrary 
to the dictates of honor and truth, though he had an in- 
fallible certainty of escaping all earthly suspicion, though 
the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them were 
to be the reward of transgressing. He is amenable to 
a higher tribunal than that of man, and looks for a 
higher reward than man has it in his power to bestow. 
Influenced only by a desire of fulfilling his duty as God 
requires, and of having a conscience void of offence 
towards God and towards man, he acts as that desire 
will naturally prompt ; and with a heart and mind and 
soul and strength devoted to his Maker, he lives, as in 
the divine presence, with clean hands and a pure heart, 
neither deceiving others, nor becoming himself a dupe 
to the deceitfulness of sin. His life is a clear stream ; 
though deep, transparent to the bottom. " Behold an 



. 299 

Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile ! " He enjoys the 
confidence and esteem of the wise and goo.d. He obtains 
the approbation of God, and he can indulge the blissful 
anticipation of being raised, when his day of trial is past, 
to a state of boundlegs felicity, irradiated with the 
splendors of everlasting truth, and made to shine like the 
stars in the firmament, for ever and ever. 

What more, then, needs be said in praise of sincerity ? 
What commendation can language bestow to which it 
has not a just title ? It is the life and soul of every 
evangelical virtue, the spirit and the essence of the 
christian character. Without it, what avails the appear- 
ance of sanctity, or the voice of thanksgiving and praise ? 
Of what value are sighs and tears, professions and 
exclamations of Lord ! Lord ! They are an insult, a 
mockery, an abomination to the Searcher of hearts. 
Let sincerity, then, pervade our thoughts, our words, 
our actions ; and never may we incur the reproach of 
drawing nigh unto God with our lips, while our hearts 
are far from him. On the other hand, let not a dread 
of incurring the imputation of hypocrisy, mingling with 
that disgust of it which is felt by every honest mind, lead 
to a seeming, disregard or neglect of the great duties of 
religion. We should not only be sincere in our love of 
God and his law, but we should make our sincerity 
apparent, and suffer not even our virtues to assume a 
disguise by which their beauty may be concealed and 
their, lustre tarnished ; because, in such a case, the 
benefit of their example is lost ; and the light which 
should be set on a candlestick and made to shine before 
men, is hidden under a bushel. Let not humility wear 
the garb of pride, nor benevolence appear in the mask 
of illiberality. 



300 

With sincerity, the Apostle conjoins simplicity, its 
proper and natural associate. But of this virtue, it may 
with good reason be observed, that it is more the gift 
of nature than of education ; one of those rare endow- 
ments which she bestows only or* her favorites. Gene- 
rally considered, it is a quality the most pleasing to a 
pure and uncorrupted taste in every thing with which 
it can be connected. We admire it in architecture, in 
furniture, in dress, in manners, in literary composition, 
and hence the matchless and imperishable beauty of 
the sacred scriptures, which still continue to please and 
never pall by repetition. But though it may not be in 
our power to gain what providence, in our original con- 
stitution, has withheld ; though simplicity be a grace 
which must come spontaneously, or not at all, — a grace 
too subtle to be caught in the meshes of art, and which 
perishes by the very effort which is made to seize it; — 
to none is denied the power of acting from that simplici- 
ty of motive and singleness of heart, which the word 
of God enjoins. Duplicity is the vice opposed to the 
simplicity of the gospel ; and that this may be avoided, 
no one will venture to deny. So far as simplicity is a 
moral virtue, excluding all sinister views and double- 
dealing, it is in every man's power, and it is every man's 
duty to acquire it, and regulate his life and conversation 
by its decisions. 

But to the young I would more particularly recom- 
mend the virtue which has furnished a subject for this 
discourse. In them we naturally expect to find open- 
ness and ingenuousness, and are cruelly disappointed 
when we discover any attempt, at imposition or deceit. 
These are the most unfavorable omens of their future 



301 

worth and respectability ; for, as it has been well re- 
marked, dissimulation in youth is the forerunner of 
perfidy in age. The distortion of the sapling grows 
inveterate in the tree, and the slight disease which a 
timely remedy might remove, becomes by neglect in- 
curable. Hence it is most imperative on teachers and 
parents to imbue the minds of their children with a 
conscientious regard for truth ; to warn them of the sin 
and danger of all guile and deceit, and lead them to 
act under the habitual conviction, that they are living in 
the presence of God, who is the constant witness of our 
actions, who will bring every secret work of darkness 
into light, and render unto everj' one according to his 
deserts. When they have unhappily been led to the 
commission of wrong, inspire them with moral courage 
to confess it, and abide the consequences, rather than 
try from servile fear to avoid them, by a dereliction of 
honor and veracity. Suffer them not to imagine that 
one sin can be annulled by another, or that the veil of 
deceit, however specious or thickly woven, will be long 
able to hide the deformity of transgression- Show that 
it is true wisdom always to act in a manner so open and 
undisguised, as never to run the risk, nor dread the 
shame of detection. With the innate vileness of a char- 
acter smoothed and varnished by hypocrisy, the painted 
sepulchre, the animate rottenness, contrast the intrinsic 
beauty of one who is distinguished by sincerity and 
candor, whose looks are the index of his soul, whose 
words are the articulate emotions of his heart. Depict 
the shame," the reproach, the disappointment, the uni- 
versal reprobation which pursue the one ; the security, 
the esteem, the love which accompany the other, its 



302 

honors on earth, its glories in Jieaven. Inscribe its 
precepts on their hearts, and show them that it is equally 
their duty and their interest to follow the counsels of 
that " wisdom which is from above, which is first pure, 
and then peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated, full 
of mercy and of good fruits, without partiality and 
without hypocrisy." With this for their guide, they 
will proceed in a broad unerring way, inspiring and 
possessing confidence, raised above the suspicions of the 
bad, and enjoying the approbation of the worthy, serv- 
ing God without fear, in holiness and righteousness all 
the days of their lives, and at the solemn hour of death, 
enjoying the pleasing retrospect of a well spent life, 
and the blissful anticipation of a glorious immortality. 



PRAYER. 

O Thou who art God over all, blessed for ever ! we 
venerate and adore Thee as the Almighty Creator and 
beneficent Parent of innumerable worlds, infinitely good 
and infinitely wise and just and true, the Fountain of 
life and light, and everlasting joy. Thou, O God art 
light, and in Thee is no darkness at all. The earth is 
full of thy riches, the world is resplendent with thy 
glory. In every thing around us we behold the emana- 
tions of thy love. In the garniture of the fields and in 
the stars of the firmament, we trace the impressions of 
thy sovereign beauty, consummate wisdom .and almigh- 
ty power. Where can we go from thy presence, or 
whither shall we flee from thy spirit ? Vain are our 



r 



304 

to his ways and according to the fruits of his doings. 
Regarding Thee as the witness of our actions, as the 
inspector of our thoughts, to whom all hearts are open, 
all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid, 
may we study to be pure in motive and intention, and 
in all our actions honest and sincere. May we do justly, 
love mercy and walk humbly before Thee, our God, as 
children of the light and of the day, that our hearts 
may not reproach us, nor our integrity depart from us 
so long as we have being. May we keep our tongues 
from evil and our lips that they speak no guile ; and at 
all times and in every condition, may we think and 
speak and act under the influence of that wisdom which 
is from above, which is first pure, and then peaceable, 
gentle and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and of 
good fruits, without partiality and without hypocrisy. 
Finally, grant, heavenly Father, we implore Thee 5 that 
in every period of life and most of all in its closing 
scene, our rejoicing maybe the testimony of conscience, 
that in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly 
wisdom, but by the grace of God, we have had our con- 
versation in the world — that we may pe accepted as 
worthy disciples of the Lord Jesus, and through him 
exalted to honor, glory and immortality. 

Pardon our sins, our ignorances, and our errors. 
Hear our humble prayer, in heaven thy dwelling place, 
and when Thou hearest forgive. All we ask and pray 
is in the name and as the. disciples of pur Lord Jesus 
Christ, for whom we would offer to Thee, .0 Father, 
everlasting praise. Amen. 



303 

thoughts that we can escape thy vigilance, or lie hid 
from thine all-seeing eye. Thy way is in the whirl- 
wind and the storm, and the clouds are the dust of thy 
feet. As nothing is too great to withstand thy resist- 
less power, nothing is too minute to be disregarded by 
thine omniscient providence. Thou numberest the hairs 
of our heads, and the moments of our lives. There is 
no spot in the illimitable universe unvisited by thy care, 
and not a sparrow falleth to the ground without thy 
knowledge. Who is like Thee, infinite in understand- 
ing ? Who like Thee, whose judgments are unsearch- 
able, and whose ways are past finding out ? 

We rejoice, O God, that we are the creatures of 
thy hand, the subjects of thy moral government. We 
thank Thee for the light of nature, for the law of con- 
science written in our hearts, and above all, for that ho- 
ly light from heaven, which Thou hast communicated 
by our Lord Jesus Christ, to guide us in thy perfect 
way, and lead us to the imperishable joys of thy hea- 
venly kingdom. Grant that we may duly profit by this 
holy light, that it may dispel our ignorance, that it may 
illumine our minds, and warm and purify our hearts,, 
that we may love Thee with a more fervent devotion, 
and endeavor to serve and obey Thee in sincerity all the 
days of our lives. 

Grant that we may ever entertain a due sense of thy 
constant/presence, to sustain us in our infirmities, to 
cheer us in despondence, to guard us in the hour of 
temptation, and through all the dark and troubled 
scenes of life to help us on our way rejoicing. May we 
live under the habitual conviction, that thine eyes are 
upon the sons of men, to give to every man according 



SERMON XIX. 



THE INCONSISTENCY, ABSURDITY, AND SIN 

OF PROFE SSING RELIGION, WITHOUT A 

CORRESPONDING CONDUCT. 



Psalm I. 16. 

"but unto the wicked god saith; what hast thou to do to de- 
clare MY STATUTES, OR, THAT THOU SHOULDST TAKE MY COVENANT 
IN THY MOUTH ?" 

My brethren, the writer of this truly excellent and 
pious composition leads the Israelites to a serious re- 
view of their characters, compared with their religious 
advantages, profession, and hopes, under a consideration 
of the immediate inspection and censure of Jehovah, 
the common Lord and Judge of the world, and who was 
exercising a kind and friendly providence over them, as 
a peculiar people. In order to add greater weight to 
the reproof he intended to convey, and the more effectu- 
ally to produce the general reformation on which he 
was so intent, he represents the Deity as issuing his 
commands for collecting the whole nation before him. 
The presence, not only of all the other inhabitants of 
this world is, at the same time, demanded, but the in- 
39 



306 

habitants of Heaven are required to attend, as witnesses 
of the equity of his judgment. To this judgment He 
is supposed immediately to proceed ; condemning, be- 
fore the numerous assembly already convened, their fol- 
lies and vices ; and threatening them, if found impeni- 
tent, with corresponding marks of his displeasure. 

In this imaginary judicial procedure, Jehovah is 
said to distinguish, the Jews into two classes, and to 
address himself to each of them. Those, in the first 
class, are addressed as persons of some religion. They 
are, however, accused of debasing their piety with a 
considerable mixture of superstition. They are cen- 
sured for placing an undue stress upon sacrificial rites 
and emblematical forms of worship, to the comparative 
neglect of internal and truly spiritual devotion. They 
are considered as being inattentive to the natural and 
obvious expressions of genuine religion, prayer and 
praise. They are represented as living in disobedience 
to the divine laws of purity and virtue, which they had 
entered into the most solemn engagements to observe. 
This conduct certainly arose from the grossest miscon- 
ceptions of the nature and the perfections of God. He, 
therefore, rejects, with indignation, their acts of reli- 
gious homage thus applied. He considers them as irra- 
tional in themselves, as unworthy of his acceptance, 
and as attended with consequences naturally subversive 
of real virtue and goodness in the worshipper. " Hear, 
O my people, and I will speak ; O Israel, and I will 
testify against thee : 1 am God, even thy God. I will 
not reprove thee for thy sacrifices, or thy burnt offerings, 
for they are daily before me. I will take no bullocks 
out of thy house, nor he-goats out of thy fields. For 



307 

every beast of the forest is mine ; the cattle, and the 
mountain bulls. I own every bird of the Heavens ; and 
the glory of the field is mine. If I were hungry, I would 
not apply to thee, for the world is mine, and the fulness 
thereof. Will I eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the 
blood of goats ? Offer up to God the sacrifice of praise, 
and perform thy vows to the most High ; then call upon 
me in the day of trouble, and when I deliver thee, glo- 
rify thou me."* 

This part of the Psalm, you find, relates to such as 
might be real worshippers of Jehovah, though their de- 
votions were, in some respects, weak, irrational, super- 
stitious, and very little worthy of the nature of God, to 
whom they were directed ; or, even of the worshipper 
himself. It relates to such as were capable of discern- 
ing the superior excellence of true spiritual homage, 
and from whom, therefore, such homage might be just- 
ly expected ; and who, in the present case, were, with- 
out doubt peculiarly reprehensible for serving God thus 
ignorantly, since they enjoyed singular advantages for 
obtaining more just sentiments of his nature, perfections, 
and will. 

In the text, those of a different character among 
them are addressed, and who deserved a much severer 
reproof, condemnation and punishment: "but to the 
wicked God saith, how becometh it thee to talk of my 
statutes ? My covenant thou hast in thy mouth ; but 
thou hatest instruction ; and my word thou castest be- 
hind thee." * 

In the explication of this passage, and the improve- 

* See Geddes' version. 



308 

merit of the subject, we shall be naturally led to consider 
the character here given of these persons ; their incon- 
sistency, their absurdity, and their unprofitableness, on 
account of this their character. This is sufficiently im- 
plied in the question ; " How becometh it thee, to talk 
of my statutes ? " We shall afterwards consider how 
far this address may, with equal propriety and justice, be 
deemed applicable to any who live in the present times, 
and who acknowledge the truth of the christian reli- 
gion, professing themselves to be the followers of Christ. 
My brethren, the meaning of these persons talking 
of the statutes of God, and having his covenant in their 
mouths, must appear so plain and obvious to you, as 
to render it unnecessary for me to say much upon it*. 
The expressions naturally designate those who hesitat- 
ed not to acknowledge the divine authority of the Jew- 
ish religion. They point out to us those who considered, 
or at least those who wished to be thought to consider, 
the doctrines which this religion delivered,. the precepts 
which it enjoined, the prohibitions, promises, and threat- 
enings it contained, as just, rational, and good. They 
refer us to such as considered their religion to be origin- 
ally derived from God, though delivered to their nation 
by Moses, to have been faithfully transmitted to them, 
and to be supported by the supreme authority of the 
universal Lord and Governor of the world. They 
evidently relate to such as acknowledged that those who 
were acquainted with their religion, ought to regulate 
their faith and practice by it. And they direct us to 
those who assumed the public profession of it them- 
selves, who occasionally taught and recommended it to 
others, and who wished to be considered as making it 



309 

the rule of their own conduct, and the foundation of all 
their expectations. By their talking of the statutes of 
Jehovah, and having his covenant in their mouths, the 
Psalmist must have unquestionably intended to denote 
their religious prefession and hopes as Jews. However, 
before we can determine in what manner these preten- 
sions were supported, it will be necessary to make some 
previous inquiry into the character of these people. 
They are, in general terms, called wicked. In the 
charge explicitly drawn up against them, they are ac- 
cused of hating instruction, and casting the word of God 
behind them. They are represented as men of an un- 
teachable disposition and an untractable temper, rendered, 
by their vices, averse to religious and moral instruction. 
They were men who had, in a great measure, learned 
to banish serious reflection ; to stifle the convictions of 
their own minds ; and to avoid, or resist, every sugges- 
tion which might disturb them in the indulgence of 
their crimes, or divert them from the prosecution of their 
wicked devices. They were men who would not allow 
themselves even to imagine they did evil. They were 
men, who, it appears, were so far from attending to the 
important contents of the Mosaic revelation, and con- 
sulting it as containing the proper rules for the regu- 
lation of their conduct, that they, in fact, entirely 
neglected it ; nay, they even treated it as persons do 
any vile and worthless thing, which they throw from 
them with disdain and contempt. 

The Scriptures, my brethren, called by the Psalmist, 
the word of God, are well calculated to operate as a 
check to vice, and as a restraint on immorality ; es- 
pecially in the minds of those who have enjoyed the 



310 

blessings of a virtuous and religious education. In such 
persons they awaken and strengthen the convictions of 
conscience, and the natural just fear of future condem- 
nation and punishment. When men, therefore, have 
contracted such a general inattention and disregard to 
the Scriptures, as has been just described, they fall an 
easy prey to their own irregular desires and ungovern- 
ed passions. This is particularly the case, when excit- 
ed and inflamed by the example, persuasion, and argu- 
ments of more practised and hardy sinners ; and they 
are readily hurried into the most shocking and detesta- 
ble crimes. No wonder, then, that the former part of 
the charge is thus aggravated in the 18th verse; "if 
thou seest a thief, thou joinest him." 

The art and assiduity often employed by. old and 
hardened sinners, in order to seduce persons of an un- 
guarded temper, and of an unsteady wavering virtue, 
are forcibly and accurately described by Solomon, in 
the first chapter of his book of Proverbs ; the tenth and 
following verses. " My son, if sinners entice thee, 
consent thou not. If they say, come with us, let us 
lay wait for blood, let us lurk for those who in vain are 
innocent, let us swallow them up, as the tomb does the 
living, and the upright, as those who go down into the 
grave ; rich booty we shall find of every sort, our houses 
we shall fill with plunder ; take thy lot with us, we 
shall have one purse in common : my son, walk not in 
the way with them, withhold thy foot from their path ; 
for their feet run to evil, and haste to the shedding of 
blood."* We here find, personal example is urged ; a 



See Dr. Hodgson's version. 



311 

strong confederacy suggested ; a favorable opportunity 
immediately proposed : concealment and safety san- 
guinely presumed ; and a large and equal division of riches 
confidently promised. Thus the persons spoken of in 
the text are said to have been prevailed on to steal the 
substance of their neighbors by stealth, if not by more 
flagrant methods of violence and cruelty. A vice this 
of the most destructive nature to the interests and wel- 
fare of society. It is a vice which renders every man's 
property extremely precarious and uncertain, and dis- 
courages every valuable improvement. It is a vice 
which, if not held in check, would introduce universal 
disorder and confusion, and be productive of the most 
fatal contentions and discord. 

These Jews stand further accused of being partakers 
with adulterers, and of having been led, by impure and 
sensual companions, into the most corrupt and depraved 
practices. They stand accused, also, of dissolving the 
strongest ties of amity ; of counteracting the noblest 
virtues that can possibly adorn human nature ; of con- 
founding all relations, and of utterly subverting a hap- 
piness of the most tender and delicate nature. The 
account of this black character is closed by the follow- 
ing description : " Thou openest thy mouth to utter mal- 
ice ; and thy tongue frameth deceit after deceit. Thou 
speakest falsehood against thy brother ; and slanderest 
thy own mother's son." Expressions these which 
denote a studied falsehood ; which imply artful malice 
and deceit, defamation and slander. These, indeed, are 
usually the resource of the wicked to support their own 
reputation ; to conceal their base designs, and to expe- 
dite the execution of their fraud and injustice. And, 



312 

generally speaking, it is in vain to oppose to such men 
the ties of consanguinity and friendship. On the 
contrary, these frequently afford them greater facilities 
of practising injustice, and committing iniquity towards 
them, than others. 

The manifest inconsistency, absurdity and unprofit- 
ableness of the religious profession and hopes of these 
persons, while they were guilty of those vices and crimes 
which have been mentioned ; or, in the language of the 
text, their talking of the statues of God, and of their 
having his covenant in their mouths, remain to be con- 
sidered. 

They acknowledged the Mosaic law to be of divine 
origin and authority ; and they allowed that, in its 
several parts, it was wise, rational and good. They 
considered it as the appointed rule of their lives and 
conduct ; and appeared to think themselves under the 
strictest obligations to obey all its directions and pre- 
cepts. But, how could this possibly coincide with 
their hating instruction and casting the law behind 
them ? how could it agree with their refusing to pay 
any attention or regard to its contents ? how could it 
correspond with a course of action the reverse of many 
of its important precepts ; or, with a mad defiance of 
its strongest prohibitions, and of its severest threaten- 
ings ? The law told them, not to follow a multitude 
to do evil, in any respect whatever. It expressly for- 
bade their stealing ; or, in any degree, to defraud or 
oppress one another : nay, it enjoined on them, not even 
to covet what was the property of another. The per- 
sons mentioned in the text, however, if they saw a thief 
joined him. The statutes of God, in the clearest man- 



313 

ner, forbade adultery ; yet, they are accused of being 
guilty of this crime. The covenant of God, in the 
strongest terms, forbade their lying one to another, and 
prohibited their bearing false witness, or raising mali- 
cious reports againstany ; yet, we are told, " they opened 
their mouths to utter malice, and their tongues framed 
deceit after deceit; they spoke falsehood against their 
brother, and even slandered their own mother's son." 
Could any thing be more irreconcileably opposite, than 
the profession of these men compared with their prac- 
tice ? would any concessions from them, in favor of 
that revelation, be pleasing to its divine author, which 
the language of their actions so openly contradicted ? 
could a bare verbal profession of receiving it be suffi- 
cient ; or, could it atone for a positive opposition to its 
authority, and a violation of its most sacred and impor- 
tant precepts ? did it not rather discover the utmost 
disingenuity and insincerity of mind ? was it not the 
most daring mockery of Jehovah, the avowed object of 
their homage and adoration ? and could such behaviour 
serve any other purpose than that of exposing them to 
the contempt of virtuous men, and the displeasure of a 
righteous God ? 

The expectations and hopes of those, whose charac- 
ters have been described, and who are here represented 
as wicked, must be vain and delusive. For, the rewards 
annexed to any law are, certainly, intended to enforce 
its precepts, and to induce men, from the additional 
motive of interest, to practise their duty. To consider 
them in a different light, appears to me to be extremely 
irrational. It is absurdly supposing the law to be con- 
structed in such a manner as to counteract itself, and 
40 



314 

to destroy its own authority and influence. The pro- 
mises contained in the Mosaic covenant, in particular, 
are unquestionably made on condition of obedience ; 
and they are limited to the righteous, the virtuous, and 
the good.* It afforded no encouragement to any who 
did not comply with this condition. Its promises were 
not made in favor of such persons as the text re- 
proves, and who neglected some of its most important 
commands ; but of persons of the contrary and opposite 
character. To apply these to themselves was, conse- 
quently, most unwarrantable and presumptuous ; and, to 
the highest degree, ridiculous and absurd. It was, in- 
deed, setting the precepts and promises of the same law 
at variance, and making one destructive of the other. 
But the vanity of these hopes will appear much strong- 
er, if it be considered that the blessings promised in the 
law depend not only on an obedience to the several 
precepts it enjoins, but every kind of vice and immo- 
rality is most particularly and expressly forbidden in this 
law ; and the most severe punishment denounced against 
those who are habitually guilty of them, f Such, then, 
is the constitution of the Mosaic covenant, that it was 
made in favor of those alone, who had respected, or 
obeyed, all its commandments. Those, who did not 
pay this universal obedience to its precepts, Were not 
only excluded from the benefits it proposed, but laid un- 
der the censure, and what was termed the curse, of the 
law, and became the objects of the divine displeasure. 
The inconsideration, therefore, and stupid security of 
all such persons, as those mentioned in the text are, 

* See Deut. xxviii. 1, 2. t See Deut. xxviii. 15. 



315 

described as attended with the most dangerous and fa- 
tal consequences.* If it argued the highest presump- 
tion and folly to hope for the benefits and blessings of 
the Mosaic covenant, although the condition of " ob- 
serving all the commandments of the law to do them," 
were not complied with, then, to retain these hopes, 
even while the prohibitions and threatenings of the law 
stood in full force against them, was certainly, of all 
others, the most unaccountable instance of infatuation 
and madness. 

We hence proceed to consider how far the address 
in the text may, with equal propriety and justice, be 
applicable to any, who live in the present times, who 
acknowledge the truth of the christian religion, and who 
profess to be the followers of Christ. 

Our Lord assured the Jews that he came not to 
dissolve the law and the prophets ; but, on the contrary, 
to complete them, i. e. to explain and confirm them 
where they had been perverted and rendered ineffectual 
by the inventions of men. And he adds, " until the 
heavens and the earth pass away, one jot or one tittle 
will, by no means, pass from the law until all things 
have come to pass." The gospel, therefore, my 
brethren, enjoins the most rational and spiritual worship 
of God. It enjoins cheerful submission to his authority ; 
acquiescence in the dispensations of his providence ; 
and an universal obedience to his commands. It en- 
joins humility and meekness, contentment and gratitude, 
resignation and patience, temperance and self-govern- 
ment. It enjoins truth, justice, and equity ; moderation 

* See Deut. xxix. 19, 20, 2L 



316 

and candor, charity and universal benevolence. The 
gospel will be found to prohibit, in the strongest terms, 
all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men. It par- 
ticularly prohibits us to overreach or defraud our brother, 
in any dealings or transactions. It severely reproves 
all inordinate affections and vicious desires. It directs 
us to put away lying, and to speak every man truth 
with his neighbor. It commands him who has stolen, 
to steal no more ; but rather labor, working with his 
hands, the thing that is good, that he may have to give 
to him who needeth. It insists upon our putting away 
from' us all bitterness and wrath, and anger and clamor, 
and evil speaking, with all malice. It enjoins our being 
kind one to another, tenderly affectioned, forgiving one 
another, as we hope to be forgiven of God. Remember, 
therefore, and it merits your closest attention, my 
brethren, that the blessed Jesus is proposed as the 
author of salvation only to those who comply with the 
terms of the gospel. Remember, also, that in the gos- 
pel it is declared, as expressly as words can declare it, 
that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of 
Heaven. Nay, to impress it on our minds as deeply as 
such an important truth requires, it is added, " Be not 
deceived ; neither fornicators, nor adulterers, northieves, 
nor the covetous, nor liars, nor drunkards, nor revilers, 
nor extortioners shall inherit the kingdom of God."* 

If any of us, therefore, profess to receive the gospel, 
if we entertain hopes of enjoying the blessings which it 
proposes to mankind, while, at the same time, our 
characters correspond with those described in the text, 

* 1 Cor. vi. 9, 10. 



317 

our profession, when compared with theirs, will be found 
equally insincere, inconsistent, and contradictory : our 
hopes too will prove to be equally presumptuous and 
vain. We, indeed, shall be more inexcusably foolish 
and absurd ; because, a subsequent revelation, wherever 
it agrees with the former, should, certainly, be con- 
sidered as an additional confirmation of it. Every 
republication of its precepts is another testimonial to 
their importance and necessity. Every renewal of its 
prohibitions reminds us, in a stronger manner, of the 
offensive nature and dangerous consequences of the par- 
ticular vices already forbidden. Every reward again 
promised to the performance of this or the other duty, 
more clearly discovers the invariable resolution of its 
divine author, by no means to dispense with the con- 
ditions required. Every threatening repeated against 
any crime, serves more effectually to convince us that 
the punishment denounced, will certainly be inflicted 
on the daring offender. 

Besides, the Mosaic law, notwithstanding the 
sublimity and purity of its moral precepts, contained a 
considerable mixture of civil, political, ritual, and cere- 
monial institutions. These had not any obvious or im- 
mediate connection with rational piety and substantial 
virtue. They were, indeed, wisely accommodated to 
the necessities of the times, to the genius, circumstances, 
and the state of civilization among the Jews. They 
were, it is true, calculated to promote the cause of vir- 
tue, and to subserve the interests of holiness, as well as 
to prepare the world for the reception of a more simple 
and a more spiritual dispensation of religion. But, my 
brethren, the gospel repeals all to us, Gentiles, except 



318 

the moral part of the law of Moses. The gospel rejects 
every thing which is foreign to the intention of extir- 
pating vice, and restoring men to rational godliness, to 
unfeigned purity, to real probity, and to genuine good- 
ness. All its precepts and promises are particularly 
directed to promote universal righteousness ; and its 
prohibitions and threatenings to prevent every kind of 
immorality and wickedness. The new is, for this rea- 
son, a better covenant than the old. It is established 
upon better promises. The sanctions of the law of 
Moses were of a civil and temporal, those of the gospel 
are of a spiritual and eternal nature. The gospel, 
therefore, must have a stronger natural tendency to 
secure virtue and to discourage vice in its professors. 
This will appear the more evident, if we reflect that the 
several prophets, succeeding to Moses, continually led 
the Israelites to consider the moral precepts and prohi- 
bitions of his law, as of a superior excellence to all the 
rest ; and that they represented them as indispensably 
necessary, in order to obtain the favor and protection of 
Jehovah. The New Testament scriptures not only refer 
the Jews perpetually to the authority of these prophets, 
in confirmation of the superiority of the gospel, but 
inculcate it with greater force and advantage, by 
subjoining a full revelation of future rewards and 
punishments. "Whatever, then, was urged to prove the 
inconsistency, absurdity, and unprofitableness of the 
profession and the hopes of the Jews, who are censured 
in the text, will be more strongly conclusive against 
Christians of a similar character. The address to the 
former may be pointed with peculiar severity against 
the latter. What hast thou to do to talk of the gospel, 



319 

or God's covenant of mercy, communicated by Jesus; 
either to profess obedience to its institutions, or to apply 
its promises in thy own favor ? But, alas ! my 
brethren, how many are there, who profess to receive 
the gospel, that are very impatient of religious and mor- 
al discipline ? who despise the instructions of wisdom ? 
who seldom or ever read and consult the scriptures ? 
How many are there among us, who utterly neglect 
this rule of life, or contemptuously disregard it, and 
throw it by ? How many are there who sanguinely 
hope for the salvation which the gospel offers, and yet, 
knowingly live in direct opposition to its most sacred 
and important commands, with which alone this salva- 
tion stands connected ? How many are there, who 
expect to inherit the promises of the gospel, and yet 
act in daring defiance of its strongest prohibitions, of 
its most awful and tremendous threatenings ? How 
many are there, who think to reap the rewards of the 
gospel, who are guilty of the most gross and flagrant 
instances of injustice, impurity, falsehood, deceit, op- 
pression, and every species of iniquity ? 

If I have been describing the character of any one 
who now hears me, permit me to conjure you, in the 
name of that master whom we profess to serve, to re- 
flect, for a moment, on the nature of your situation. 
Consider how such disingenuous, base, inconsistent, and 
contradictory professions will expose you to the reproach 
and contempt of your own hearts, to the scorn of men, 
and to the displeasure of Almighty God. Do not de- 
ceive yourselves with such vain, groundless, and pre- 
sumptuous hopes. Would you not be alarmed, were 
you, the next hour, to be summoned to quit this state 



320 

of your existence ? Would you not be overwhelmed 
with horror and despair, were you to awake from the 
sleep of death, and find yourselves encompassed with 
the august assembly of the various orders of the heaven- 
ly inhabitants, and hear God, in the character of the 
universal Lord and Judge of the world, demand what 
you meant by this mockery of his eternal Majesty ? what 
you meant by this insult upon his authority ? what 
you meant by this fatal trial and proof of his indigna- 
tion and displeasure ? Yet, my brethren, if the gospel, 
which you profess to receive as from God be true, this 
is nothing more than a just and natural representation 
of God's present displeasure at your conduct, and of his 
proceeding with you, at the great and awful day of the 
resurrection. Reflect, then, seriously reflect on your 
folly, your guilt, and your danger! If the Christian 
religion contain doctrines which deserve to be received 
as worthy of belief, withhold not your assent from 
them. If it contain precepts, which ought to be com- 
plied with, yield your ready obedience to them. If it 
contain prohibitions of vices, which are really hurtful 
and destructive, avoid them. If the gospel set before 
you a happiness, worthy of your highest ambition and 
pursuit, perform the conditions which are required, in 
order to secure the possession of it. If it denounce 
against the wicked a punishment, the most dreadful and 
insupportable, but certain, carefully shun the path that 
leads to it. 

To conclude. You must either forsake every kind 
of wickedness, or abandon your profession of being the 
disciples of Christ. You must either renounce your 
hopes, or entirely reform your characters. Nay ; pause 
not. Do not hesitate. You must either do this, or 



321 

tribulation and anguish and pain will be, must be, jour 
unavoidable portion. For you are not in a state to en- 
joy happiness. Correction is absolutely necessary. Your 
habits and dispositions are not sufficiently christian to 
qualify you for being associated with Jesus, your divine 
teacher, and the pure and holy inhabitants of the hea- 
venly kingdom. Purification, therefore, by that cor- 
rective punishment, which your conduct in life requires, 
is indispensable. My brethren, may the divine influence 
so operate on your minds and mine as to induce us to 
endeavor to regulate our actions, to govern our pas- 
sions, and to direct our conduct in conformity to the 
precepts and commands of the gospel, and to his 
example, whose followers and disciples we profess to be, 
that, at the day of the resurrection, he may welcome us 
as his faithful servants, and admit us to a participation 
of his glory. Amen. 



PRAYER. 

Almighty God ! the source of all that is good and 
excellent, who lovest righteousness and hatest iniquity ; 
we beseech Thee to incline us to take warning by those 
examples of wicked and impenitent men, of which 
we read in the scriptures of truth, that none of us may 
be induced to live in the commission of wilful sins, nor 
in the habitual provocation of Thee ; lest we be forsaken 
of Thee, and left under the dominion of vice and a har- 
dened conscience. We pray that thy divine perfections 
may make such a deep and leave such a lasting impres- 
41 



322 

sion on our minds, as may assist us in maintaining the 
purity and power of them in our hearts ; that, by 
constanly keeping up this mental communion and 
intercourse with thee, we may acquire renewed strength, 
and experience additional pleasure and satisfaction, in 
the faithful discharge of our duty to the end of our lives. 
And when, at any time, we are allured by the tempta- 
tions of this world, lead us to direct our thoughts to a 
future state of existence. Do thou so impress our hearts 
with the consideration of its certainty, of its nearness, 
and of its vast importance, that we may seriously 
inquire with what expectations we can reasonably 
hope to enter on it, and in what character we are likely 
to appear before our Judge. Dispose us to bear con- 
stantly in mind that our station, in a future life, must 
take its quality from the nature of our pursuits and 
attainments in the present ; and that we must be happy 
or miserable, in proportion as we are here virtuous or 
vicious, holy or wicked. Thus may we be led to dis- 
cover not only the hurtful and hateful nature of all sin, 
but be enabled to abhor and avoid it ; and truly to 
discern the necessity and excellency of holiness, that 
we may be induced to make choice of it, above all things, 
in our hearts, and to express it in our lives. And when 
we are summoned to depart out of this state of our ex- 
istence, may we be found to possess such tempers and 
dispositions, such habits and inclinations, as will qualify 
us for an admission into thine heavenly kingdom. And 
now unto Thee, who art able to keep us from falling, 
and to present us, without blemish, in the presence of 
thy glory with exceeding joy, unto Thee, the only wise 
God, our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and 
power, both now and forever. Amen. 



SERMON XX. 



THE CONNEXION OF THE RESURRECTION OF 
CHRIST WITH A GENERAL RESURRECTION. 



1 Thus. iv. 14. 



FOR IF WE BELIEVE THAT JESUS DIED AND ROSE AGAIN, EVEN SO THEM 
WHICH SLEEP IN JESUS WILL GOD BRING WITH HIM." 



We learn, from the seventeenth chapter of the Acts, 
that the Apostle, after a residence of a few weeks at 
Thessalonica, was driven from thence by a furious tu- 
mult of the unbelieving Jews, by whom he was also 
obliged to quit Beraea for Athens. After a short resi- 
dence there he removed to Corinth ; from which place 
he wrote an epistle to his Thessalonian converts, for 
whom he had conceived a great esteem and tender 
affection ; for whom, therefore, he was under concern 
lest they should be discouraged by the difficulties to 
which they were exposed. He had, indeed, sent Tim- 
othy, who it. should seem was less obnoxious than 
himself, to comfort and establish them : and when on 
his return he reported favorably of them, he was filled 
with thankfulness, and earnestly prayed that he might 
be permitted to complete his instructions. But since he 



324 

had not as yet any prospect of this, he attempts by this 
epistle to supply the want of his personal preaching ; 
and gives them such consolations, admonitions, and 
further instructions, as their particular circumstances ap- 
peared more immediately to require. 

The doctrine which he sets himself more especially 
to inculcate, was tl\e resurrection of the faithful from 
the dead ; for want of a full persuasion of which they 
seem to have still continued to be overwhelmed with 
sorrow on occasion of the death of their friends : like 
the rest of their heathen neighbors, they indulged in 
extreme grief, and studied every extravagant expression 
of it. He, therefore, endeavors to confirm his converts 
in this most supporting and comfortable doctrine. " I 
would not have you be ignorant, brethren, that ye sor- 
row not as others who have no hope. For if we believe 
that Jesus died and rose again, even so them which 
sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. 1 ' 

This is indeed a doctrine of vast concern and joyful 
consequence to mankind, who have from nature a great 
delight in life, an earnest desire for its continuance, and 
an invincible aversion against the thought of parting 
with it ; who, therefore, look upon death, with all its 
attendants and effects, with inexpressible dejection and 
dismay. The utmost force of unassisted reason had 
never got beyond some obscure opinions and wavering 
conjectures ; but for the grand and astonishing but 
glorious and joyful discovery of a future life, we are 
wholly indebted to the gospel revelation ; a discovery 
which quite alters our ideas of death, takes off the 
greater part of its horrors, and greatly abates our appre- 
hensions of it. To die is not now to perish and be lost ; 



S25 



but only to fall asleep, that we may awake to immor- 
tality. 

But as our faith in this doctrine is wholly founded 
on the gospel revelation, we ought to confine our senti- 
ments concerning it within the boundaries of what is 
there revealed, and not to presume to indulge in con- 
jectures and fancies of our own. We shall find enough 
revealed to convince us of the certainty, and give us all 
necessary satisfaction respecting the circumstances, of 
this great event. Let us, therefore, give a serious at- 
tention to this amazing subject, in which we are all so 
deeply interested. 

First, the Apostle intimates in the text, that the 
surest ground of our belief and expectation of a general 
resurrection is the fact of the resurrection of Jesus 
Christ. If we are convinced of and firmly believe this 
fact, it will undeniably follow, that those who are 
asleep God will bring with him by Jesus. In the fif- 
teenth chapter of the first epistle to the Corinthians, the 
Apostle enlarges upon it in a very particular manner, in 
answer to some who denied the possibility of a resur- 
rection. He observes, that the grand article insisted on 
by the first preachers of the gospel was not a matter of 
speculation, but a fact ; with respect to which they 
could not be mistaken when they bore their personal 
testimony, but must have known whether it were so or 
not : but if there be no such thing as a resurrection, 
then this event which they asserted to be a fact must 
be false, and the preachers themselves must be convict- 
ed of imposture ; an imposture for which they could 
have no earthly motive, since they got nothing for it but 
cruel treatment, imprisonment and death ; so that if the 



326 

fact were not true, they were of all men most misera- 
ble. "Therefore," says he, " Christ is risen from the 
dead," and if so, then there must be a general resurrec- 
tion ; for Christ is risen as " the first fruits" of those 
who sleep, as an earnest that the general harvest shall 
in due time be gathered. For as by one man, Adam, 
death was introduced, so by one man, Christ, a resur- 
rection is introduced, and through him shall all men be 
made alive again. Thus does the Apostle treat the sub- 
ject of the connexion between Christ's resurrection and 
a general resurrection. 

Now for the truth of this fundamental fact we have 
the strongest proofs, that such a fact could admit of. 
He was crucified and died before a vast assemblage of 
people ; all of whom, Jews, Romans and his own disci- 
ples, were fully satisfied of the reality of his death ; 
indeed never once called it in question. That he rose 
from the dead is a fact attested by great numbers of 
persons who had a perfect knowledge of him ; all of 
whom declared that they saw him, conversed and ate 
with him, felt and handled him, and had every other 
proof that their senses could give them, that he was 
really alive again. These men persisted in affirming 
this fact, uniformly, not during a temporary enthusiasm, 
but made it the cool deliberate object of their whole 
lives ; notwithstanding the grievous sufferings to which 
we have before referred. In the bearing, too, of this 
testimony, and for the express purpose of enabling 
them to bear it, God himself bore witness to the resur- 
rection of Jesus, by endowing them with miraculous 
gifts, and enabling them to work innumerable miracles, 
which they always wrought in confirmation of the re- 
surrection. 



327 

Thus, we have the strongest proof, both human and 
divine, to the truth of this fact, that could be given ; 
or that ever was given to ascertain the truth of any fact 
since the creation of the world. 

Let us then proceed to inquire, Secondly, into the 
connexion between this fact, and the certainty of a 
future general resurrection. 

In the first place, the fact of Christ's resurrection 
proves beyond contradiction the possibility of a resur- 
rection ; there may be, for there has been, such a thing 
as a resurrection from the dead. One person has been 
raised from the dead ; why then may not all ? This 
person was raised by the power of God ; and is not that 
power sufficient to raise all that are dead ? By the power 
of God man was originally created out of the dust of the 
ground ; and is it not for the same power to raise up all 
men to life again out of the dust ? The fact of an actual 
resurrection is ascertained ; a sufficient power is assigned 
which produced the effect ; and which is sufficient for 
producing a like effect with regard to all the dead. 
The heathens concluded the impossibility of a resurrec- 
tion, because they could not observe any tendencies in 
nature towards such an event, or discover any natural 
powers sufficient, or had ever seen an instance of it : 
but here is a case in fact that proves its possibility ; 
here is a divine agency produced as the cause of it ; 
that power by which all nature was created, and all its 
laws established ! Since this fact, a resurrection from 
the dead is no new or unheard-of thing ; it is no longer 
" incredible that God should raise the dead : " if He 
designs it, undoubtedly he can effect it ; He who gave 
life, can restore it : He who formed our bodies so admi- 



328 

rably adapted for this state, can, if, and when he pleases, 
re-establish them, and with equal skill adapt them to 
whatever state he may be pleased to introduce them 
into. " He who raised up the Lord Jesus, can raise 
up us also by Jesus, and present us together." 

The fact, then, of Christ's resurrection being estab- 
lished, and the possibility, and even presumptive evi- 
dence, of a general resurrection,, being shown, it remains 
to inquire into the proof which arises from this fact 
that God will raise the dead. This also can only be 
known by divine revelation. Let us look, therefore, into 
the book of revelation, and we shall find it there most 
plainly declared. 

For let it be observed, secondly, that the resurrection 
of Christ gives the strongest proof of his divine mis- 
sion ; since it is impossible that a righteous and holy 
God could ever give so signal an attestation to a deceiver. 
And Christ himself before his death foretold his resur- 
rection, and illustrated its connexion with a general 
resurrection. See the fifth chapter of John from the 
eleventh verse : " As the Father raiseth up the dead and 
quickeneth them, even so the Sonquickeneth whom he 
will. Verily, verily, I say unto you, the hour is coming, 
and now is, when the dead shall hear the voice of the 
Son of man, and they that hear shall live ; for as the 
Father hath life in himself, so hath He given to the 
Son to have life in himself, and hath given him authority 
to execute judgment also, because he is the Son of man." 
He repeats it again, " The hour is coming when all 
that are in the graves, shall hear the voice of the 
Son of man, and shall come forth ; they that have done 
good unto the resurrection of life,, and they that have 
done evil, unto the resurrection of condemnation." 



329 

But he takes care immediately to disclaim this as a 
power inherent in himself, and acknowledges it as 
r.'holly derived from God : " I can of mine own self do 
nothing ; according as I hear, I judge : " and again, " the 
Son can do nothing of himself, but what he seeth the 
Father do ; for what things soever the Father doth, 
these also doth the Son likewise ; for the Father loveth 
the Bon, and showeth him all things that Himself 
doth." In his discourse to Martha, in the eleventh 
chapter, he declares, " I am the resurrection and the 
life ; he that believeth on me, though he were dead, yet 
shall he live ; and whosoever liveth," or is living (at the 
time when I shall come to raise the dead) * " shall nev- 
er die." It is also in the view of his second coming to 
raise the dead, that he says to his disciples in his last 
discourse with them before his crucifixion, " In my 
Father's house are many mansions ; I go to prepare a 
place for you, and if I go and prepare a place for you, I 
will come again and receive you unto myself, that where 
I am, there ye may be also." Such were the express, 
solemn, and magnificent declarations of the Lord Jesus 
concerning his raising the dead, and giving everlasting 
life to his followers, which he so often repeated during 
his ministry. If, therefore, we believe that God raised 
from the dead him who delivered these declarations 
concerning a general resurrection, and thereby signally 
attested his mission as from Himself, and the general 
truth and authority of his doctrines, can there remain a 
doubt whether these declarations shall be fulfilled ; or 
whether God, by Jesus Christ, will raise the dead that 



Compare 1 Cor. xv. 81. and 1 Thes. iv. 17. 

42 



330 

sleep, and bring them, with himself, into His glorious 
presence ? 

III. But further to illustrate the connexion between 
the resurrection of Christ, and the general resurrection, 
the Apostle informs the Philippians (ch. ii. 8 — 11) that 
in reward of his obedience unto death, he was invest- 
ed with authority and dominion, " that in his name eve- 
ry knee might bow to God, and every tongue might 
confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God 
the Father." Still more plainly to the Romans, (xiv. 
9.) " To this end Christ both died and rose and reviv- 
ed," (or lives again) " that he might be Lord both of the 
dead and of the living." Here the dead are asserted to 
be a part of Christ's property, his subjects, and under 
his dominion. Even in the state of death, they are in 
the Redeemer's possession, and under his care ; and 
must at the appointed time be raised to be the living 
and capable subjects of his government. And therefore 
the Apostle properly said, in the two preceding verses, 
"None of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth unto 
himself; for whether we live, we live unto the Lord ; 
(under the government of his laws, as his faithful sub- 
jects) " and whether we die, we die unto the Lord" (in 
humble hope of the accomplishment of his promises ;) 
" whether we live therefore, or die, we are the Lord's." 
If, then, we are to continue to stand in such a relation 
to the Lord Jesus, even while we are in the state of 
death, it must be in prospect of a resurrection ; for if 
we were to perish finally at death, all relation must of 
necessity be cancelled. 

IV. The New Testament further represents our Lord 



331 

as standing in the relation of a Head to his followers.* 
Now, will it not follow of necessary consequence, that, as 
he rose from the dead, so must also his followers ? Shall 
the head live for evermore, and the members perish for 
ever ? No ; " if we be planted together in the likeness 
of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his re- 
surrection." 

You see, then, in what a variety of ways the sacred 
writers, especially St. Paul, illustrate the connexion 
between the resurrection of Christ and the certainty' of 
a future general resurrection. 

Our text further informs us, as our Lord, we see, 
had informed his disciples, and the Apostle elsewhere 
frequently insists, f that God will raise the dead by 
the ministration and agency of the Lord Jesus, who 
was himself raised from the dead by the power of 
God. It has been well observed, that our trans- 
lation does not well express the exact meaning and 
force of the original : which might better have been 
rendered, " If we believe that Jesus died and is risen 
again, even so them also who are asleep will God raise 
again by Jesus, and bring them with him." This 
exhibits to us a sentiment and mode of expression per- 
fectly similar to other passages of this Apostle, and 
conformable to the whole tenor of Scripture. Agree- 
ably to this he reminds the Philippians (iii. 21) that 
this was the general expectation and hope of Chris- 
tians : " We look," says he, " for the Saviour, even our 
Lord Jesus Christ ; who shall change our vile body, 
that it may be fashioned like unto his own glorified 

* 1 Cor. x. Eph. i. and iv. Col. i. &c. t 2 Cor. iv. 4. &c. 



body, according to the working whereby he is able to 
subdue all things unto himself." 

With such a subject under consideration, can we for- 
bear to make several serious and interesting reflections ? 

What will naturally occur to us in the first place, 
is, to ask, "Have we any concern in this great event ? " 
— Yes ; every one of us is personally interested. 
Resurrection is to each of us as sure as death. We all 
must hear the voice of the Son of God, awake to eter- 
nal: life, and come forth from the grave to meet our 
Judge. Amazing expectation ! Let the thought of it 
settle in our minds, till it imprint itself deep, and pro- 
duce all its proper effects. Have we been wont to 
encourage meditations on this subject, and gained a 
clear and impressive knowledge of what the Gospel 
teaches us concerning it ? It is, indeed, wonderful, 
that, being so fully informed of such vast events, we 
should be able to turn our thoughts from them : much 
more, that any trifling incidents or interests of this life, 
should so far engross our attention as to make us for- 
getful of death, the resurrection, judgment, and eternity. 
Yet, so it is. Either we are not sufficiently convinced 
of their certainty, or we are shamefully incurious : or 
are we afraid to inquire ? But why is this ? Nothing 
can be more certain ; nothing more important or glori- 
ous ; nothing more joyful to good persons. 

But perhaps you think it too soon to concern your- 
self about matters at so great a distance ! What 
extreme folly is this ! Do you, does any one, really 
know at what distance they are ? After death, an 
interval of ages on ages is nothing to them who sleep in 
the grave. Death, the resurrection, judgment, eterni- 



333 

ty, are coincident with regard to us. In the interval 
between death and the resurrection " there is no work, 
nor device, nor knowledge : " so that the distance of all 
these events is no more than that of death. At how 
great distance, then, is death ? For how many years, 
months, days, minutes, are you sure of life ? Are not 
events continually occurring to show us — awfully to 
show us — not for one ; not for the least imaginable 
division of time ? And are we still inconsiderate of our 
own condition, and of the vast expectancies before us ? 
Rather, let us make it a point to meditate often on the 
resurrection of the dead, and on the deep concern 
which we all have in it. Amazing as it may at first 
appear, it will by habit become a pleasing and even a 
joyful subject. Let us often retire from the bustle and 
impertinence of life, to survey these grand and interest- 
ing scenes, which are so strongly painted in the Gospel. 
Let faith present the Lord of life and glory descending 
with his holy angels, issuing his omnipotent commands, 
— because they are the commands of his and our com- 
mon Father, — the dead arising and standing before him, 
and ourselves among the number ! What will be our 
sentiments, what our condition, then ? 

These are no figures of bold imagination, but certain 
realities, which will soon take place respecting us all. 
Are we not ashamed to think what insignificant trifles 
push this subject out of our thoughts ? Rather, ought 
not this expectation to have a continual powerful 
influence over our tempers and whole conduct? "What 
manner of persons ought it not to make us in all holy 
conversation and godliness, looking for> and hastening 
unto, the coming of this great day ?■'? We are well 



334 

assured that the dead will not then rise all in the same 
circumstances: "they that have done good" will rise 
" to the resurrection of life ; but they that have done 
evil to the resurrection of condemnation." It is there- 
fore to be determined by our present conduct, in which 
place, and to what condition, ourselves shall then arise. 
What motive can be more effectual to engage us to con- 
stant watchfulness against all sin, and diligence and 
perseverance in all duty ? Do you hope to arise to 
incorruption and immortality ? Defile not yourselves 
at present with the deadly corruptions of vice and 
wickedness. Do you hope that your Saviour will fashion 
your bodies in the likeness to his own glorified body ? 
Preserve them at present pure and undefiled. Abstain 
from all corruption of flesh and spirit, and perfect holi- 
ness in the fear of God. Begin your resemblance of 
the blessed Jesus now, by being, like him, holy, harm- 
less, undefiled, and separate from sinners. Listen to 
his instructions, and carry them with full effect into 
practice. Obey his precepts ; imitate his example ; 
study, and admit the power of, his promises ; wait 
with faith and hope for his glorious appearance ; and 
then shall you behold it with inexpressible joy, share 
in the resurrection of the just, and " be found of him in 
peace, without spot, and blameless." 

Further, the assured expectation of a resurrection 
affords abundant matter of support under the apprehen- 
sion of our own dissolution, and on occasion of the 
death of our virtuous friends. Nature inspires an 
ardent longing after life ; but the Gospel, we see, assures 
us of an everlasting life. Nature shudders at the sight 
of death ; but the Gospel teaches us that it is not a per- 



335 

petual, but only a temporary state. Why should we be 
terrified at descending into the grave ? The Lord 
Jesus lay there, and sanctified it ; he rose again from 
it, and hath engaged his Father's faithfulness that we 
also shall be raised from it, under circumstances inex- 
pressibly advantageous and glorious. Can we, then, 
hesitate to be conformed to his death, that we may also 
be conformed to his resurrection, and received to his 
glory ? The Gospel has quite altered our idea of death ; 
and for that reason has given it a new name, Sleep : 
that is, a suspension of our vital faculties, to be restor- 
ed again, renewed and invigorated. Thus our Saviour 
says of Lazarus, " he sleepeth, but I go to awake him 
out of his sleep ; " intimating, that it was as easy to him 
to restore the dead to life, as, in the general order of 
things, a person is awakened out of ordinary sleep. 
Thus St. Paul also represents the condition of ^deceased 
believers as being " fallen asleep," to show that, in due 
time, they shall as certainly and as easily be revived by 
the power of Christ, committed unto him by God, the 
Father Almighty, as we can awaken one who is asleep. 
For our deceased friends, then, we may draw much 
comfort and satisfaction, from this same gospel idea of 
death. Their time of probation is over; and if they have 
passed through their day of trial well, they are sealed up 
to immortality : they are secure in the hands of a faith- 
ful Redeemer and a gracious Father. They are still 
the members of the body of Christ ; the subjects of his 
dominion, the objects of his care, and the partakers of 
his promises. For them, therefore, we have nothing to 
be sorrowful, but. every thing to rejoice. We may have 
sustained a heavy loss in their removal ; but that is the 



336 

will of the great Governor of the world, against which 
we ought not to murmur. When we attend the last 
offices to the memory of our deceased friends, and 
deposit their remains in the common dormitory of past 
generations, let us not droop disconsolate over the scene 
of human desolation and weakness ; but rather, with 
the faith of christians, look upwards, and anticipate the 
glorious appearing of the Lord Jesus, when he shall 
call, and this sleeping dust shall awake to glory, honor 
and immortality. Sleep on, then, ye sacred dead ! 
sleep secure in the faith of a gracious and mighty Sa- 
viour, who will fulfil to you all his promises. The glo- 
rious morning of the resurrection hasteneth on, when 
ye shall hear his voice, and come forth incorruptible ; 
with your own eyes behold his blessed face, and be re- 
ceived to dwell forever with him in the blissful pre- 
sence of .his and your common Father, God. Be it our 
care, like you to live by faith in the Son of God ; that 
we may share with you in the resurrection of the just ! 



PRAYER. 

O God, who by Jesus Christ hast abolished death, 
and brought life and immortality to light by his Gospel, 
grant us thy grace, we humbly beseech Thee, that, hav- 
ing this hope, we may purify ourselves even as Christ 
our Lord is pure ; that we may put off the old man, 
which is corrupt according to deceitful lusts, and may 
put on the new man, which after God is created in 
righteousness and true holiness ; and that naming the 



337 

name of Christ, we may be careful to depart from ini- 
quity. Having so many infallible proofs of the resur- 
rection of our blessed Lord, and of the connexion of 
this great fact with the resurrection of all his followers, 
may we be faithful and diligent, that on that great day 
when he shall appear to be glorified in his saints, and 
had in honor of those who have obeyed him, we may 
be found of him in peace, without spot and blameless. 

May this be our effectual support in the prospect of 
our own death, and our ground of consolation and hope 
in the death of our virtuous friends. May we commit 
them with full confidence to the grave, " the place 
where our Lord lay ;" knowing in whom we have be- 
lieved, and persuaded that he is able to keep what we 
commit unto him against that day. Grant this, O most 
merciful Father, for Thine infinite goodness' sake in 
Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen ! 
43 



SERMON XXI 



CHRIST THE GIVER OF ETERNAL LIFE. 



1 John v. 2. 

"and this is the record, that god hath given to us eternal 
life, and this life is in his son." 

These words have a close connexion with some ques- 
tions which I would propose for our present consideration: 

1. Whether Jesus Christ is declared in the Scriptures 
to be the giver of eternal life ; 

2. Whether, on that account, he is necessarily to be 
regarded, and whether, in the Scriptures, he is represent- 
ed, as the supreme and original author of this blessing ; 

And 3. What the blessing itself, according to the 
Scriptures, includes ; — what is required in order to its 
being received ; — and what are its natural effects upon 
those by whom it is really received. 

These inquiries, it seems to me, will conduct us 
to conclusions capable of a very important practical 
application. In leading us not only to perceive but to 
make the application, may our serious attention to the 
subjects proposed be largely blessed ! 



339 

I. Our first question is, whether Jesus Christ is de- 
clared in the Scriptures to be the Giver of eternal life. 

I will refer you first to those passages which would 
seem to justify us in calling him its Author as well as 
Giver. 

In Acts iii. 15, we find the Apostle Peter speaking 
of our Lord as " the Prince of life ; " and in the margin 
of our larger Bibles we observe the word " Author " 
proposed as another rendering instead of " Prince." 
We observe also a reference to two passages in the 
epistle to the Hebrews, where the same word occurs in 
the original. One of these is ch. ii. 10, where Jesus 
is called in our English translation " the captain of our 
salvation." The other is ch. xii. 2, where he is hel 
forth to our contemplation as " the author and finisher 
of our faith." 

We have thus the same Greek word rendered by 
the three different English words, " Prince," " Captain," 
" Author ; " the last of which comes, perhaps, nearest 
to its strictly literal meaning of " first or chief leader," 
" beginner." Accordingly, many translators of the New 
Testament, and among them Mr. Wakefield, have 
adopted, in the passage of Acts above mentioned, the 
same rendering which we find in the margin of our 
Bible ; and, consequently, it becomes a passage which 
might be urged in justification of our calling Jesus " the 
author of life." 

But it seems to me that there is a more striking, 
and one in itself abundantly sufficient, justification of 
our giving him that title, in Hebrews v. 9, where we 
read of our Lord, that, " being made perfect, he became 
the author of eternal salvation unto all them that obey 
him." Here the word rendered " author " is, in fact 



340 

incapable of any other rendering. It is not the same 
word which occurs in the passages before quoted, and 
for which, as was mentioned, we find in our common 
translation three different English words. It is one 
about which there can be no doubt or hesitation. It 
clearly and unequivocally means " the causer," " the 
efficient agent," that is, " the author." Now to say of 
Jesus that he is " the author of eternal salvation," is 
only to say, in other words, that he is " the author of 
life," even that life which is the great theme of the New 
Testament writers, " eternal life." 

I would now direct your attention to some passages 
in which our Lord himself declares that it is his office 
to bestow this inestimable gift on mankind. 

In John vi. 33 — 35, we read ; " the bread of God 
is he " (or, perhaps, more properly, that) " which cometh 
down from heaven, and giveth life unto the world. 
Then said they unto him, Lord, evermore give us this 
bread. And Jesus said unto them, I am the bread of 
life : he that cometh unto me shall never hunger ; and 
he that believeth on me shall never thirst." 

Again, in John x. 27, 28, we find our Lord using 
this remarkable language ; " My sheep hear my voice, 
and I know them, and they follow me : and I give unto 
them eternal life ; and they shall never perish, neither 
shall any man pluck them out of my hand." 

And farther, in John xvii. 2, we have our Lord 
solemnly declaring it to be the object of the power 
given him over all flesh, " that he should give eternal 
life to as many as God had given him." 

To these passages might be added those in which he 
represents himself as "the life," "the resurrection 



341 

and the life," and as having in his power to give that 
" living water " of which " whosoever drinketh," it 
" shall be in him a well of water springing up into 
everlasting life." And to these might be added other 
passages from which the natural inference is, that he 
who would receive life unto his soul, he who would 
have the favor and peace of God abiding on him, 
he who would " not come into condemnation," but 
" have everlasting life," yea, and be assured that " he is 
passed from death unto life"-must come unto Jesus and 
learn of him — must say with the apostle Peter, " Lord, 
to whom shall we go ? Thou hast the words of eternal 
life." 

But I do not think any passages necessary in addition 
to those in which we have the express and solemn 
declarations of our Lord above quoted. I do not think 
the aid of inferences and implications required to make 
us believe his own assertions, that he giveth life, even 
eternal life, to those who hear his voice and follow him. 

Our first inquiry then is answered. 

II. Our next question is, whether our Lord is also 
to be regarded as the supreme and original giver of the 
life which he certainly professes to give. 

Now, in the first place, I see no absolute necessity 
for so regarding him in even the strongest expressions 
of the passages which we have been considering. Allow- 
ing that Peter calls him " the author of life," as the wri- 
ter to the Hebrews calls him " the author of our faith ;" 
and that the latter writer, with still greater force in 
the original word, proclaims him " the author of eternal 
salvation ;" — still I know not why the mere use of this 
term should prevent us from looking beyond him to One 



342 

from whom he may himself have received that which he 
gives to mankind. We are continually speaking of 
parents as the authors of existence to their children, 
without the least idea of thereby denying, or occasion- 
ing to be forgotten, the Divine and original Creator. 
We are continually speaking of human beings as the 
authors, causers, and efficient agents of various events, 
circumstances, and conditions, without meaning to call 
in question the great doctrine of an all originating and 
all over-ruling Providence. Why, then, when our Lord 
is represented as the author of any benefits to us, must, 
we immediately conclude that he is their supreme and 
original author ? In like manner, when he is said to 
give, however great and glorious the gift may be, why 
should we at once infer that the power to give it must 
have been, absolutely ''and independently, his own, and 
not a power which he himself also has received ? — He 
is properly the author and giver to us of that which he 
begins in us, and of that which we receive directly from 
him. But this is no proof that he does not stand in 
some dependent and subordinate relation to another 
Being. The question whether he does so or not, is left 
quite open to farther inquiry, as far as any passages of 
Scripture are concerned, in which we have found him 
declared to be the giver of eternal life. 

In the next place, even if, on farther inquiry, the 
Scriptures did not expressly and positively decide the 
question ; — if, for instance, we could only meet with one 
set of passages declaring Jesus, and another set repre- 
senting God, to be the bestower of eternal life ; — or, if 
there were no passages at all in which this gift is as- 
cribed to God ; yet we should be compelled, by the 



343 

force of inferences unavoidable from other scriptural 
assertions, to consider God as the supreme and original 
giver of this, together with every other blessing. " All 
things" — we are plainly and repeatedly assured by the 
Scriptures^ — " are from God." And God, we are not 
less plainly or less frequently assured by them, " is one." 
Either, therefore, we must conclude, that Jesus is liter- 
ally the same person with God, in fact, only another 
name for God — a conclusion at variance with continual 
indications in the New Testament of their personal 
diversity; — or, we must conclude, that wherever Jesus 
is declared to be the author and giver of any blessing, 
it can only be as the agent, minister, and mediator em- 
ployed by God. 

But we are not left to inferences on this question. 
It is expressly and positively decided by the Scriptures. 
They do not merely speak of Jesus in some passages, 
and of God in others, as the giver of eternal life. 
They do not merely, by the general assertion, that a|l 
things are from God, guard us against the conclusion 
that Jesus is the supreme and original author of this 
gift. But in the very same passages they clearly dis- 
tinguish the offices which they assign to God and Christ 
respectively in its bestowment. 

In proof of this, I refer you to John iii. 16. " God 
so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, 
that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but 
have everlasting life." Here, if Christ is represented 
as coming to be the author of eternal life to the believ- 
ers in him, yet it is God who gives this giver of life. 

I refer you next to Rom. vi. 23. " The wages of 
sin is death ; but the gift of God is eternal life through 



344 

Jesus Christ our Lord." Here also we have the origi- 
nal giver, God, plainly distinguished from the immedi- 
ate giver, Jesus Christ. 

I refer you lastly to the text, " And this is the 
record " — or testimony, that is, (as we find on looking 
to the preceding verse,) " the testimony which God 
hath testified concerning His Son" — " This is the testi- 
mony, that God hath given unto us eternal life, and this 
life is in His Son." It seems to me that we cannot 
have a plainer account of the manner in which the 
question under consideration ought to be answered. 
Jesus is to us the author and giver of eternal life ; but 
not the supreme and original giver. He hath received 
from God that which he bestoweth on men. And this 
account is in strict accordance with numerous passages 
which speak of our Lord's offices and authority. Thus ; 
He is the Saviour ; but it is " because the Father sent 
the Son to be the Saviour of the world." He is Lord • 
but it is because " God hath made him both Lord and 
Christ." He is " head over all things to his church ; " 
but it is because " God hath put all things under his 
feet." He is Judge of the world ; but it is because 
"the Father hath committed all judgment unto the 
Son." And so " He hath life in himself;" but it is be- 
cause " the Father hath given to the Son to have life in 
himself." Yea ; " This is the testimony, that God hath 
given unto us eternal life, and this life is in His Son." 

Our second inquiry then is answered. 

III. It now remains that we should consider a little 
more particularly what the Scriptures mean by that life 
which they thus represent as the gift, immediately, of 
Christ, and, ultimately, of God ; and that we should 



345 

also consider how, according to them, it is to be receiv- 
ed, and how, where it is received, it must manifest itself. 
Some Christians, are apt to speak as if the great 
and almost only business of Christ, and object of his mis- 
sion, were to make us sure of a life and a judgment to 
come. And if they were asked what they suppose to 
be meant when he is said to give us everlasting life, 
they would, probably, answer, that it is the complete 
assurance which we have of rising again from the dead, 
in his solemn promise confirmed as it was by his own 
resurrection. Now I mean not to undervalue this 
assurance. On the contrary, I rejoice in it. But this 
alone, I confess, appears to me a very scanty account 
of the life and immortality brought to light by the 
gospel. So far as J can trust impressions made on my 
mind, by repeated and, I hope, attentive perusals of the 
New Testament, the life which Jesus is represented as 
giving, always includes something far more valuable 
than mere existence. It is always too held forth as the 
peculiar privilege of his followers. It seems to denote 
a certain spiritual condition, even here strikingly, dis- 
tinguished from that of those who are called the world. 
In the same manner, everlasting or eternal life always 
appears used in a more comprehensive sense than that 
of mere immortality, or renewal of existence after death. 
The resurrection of the dead is a doctrine comprehend- 
ing all mankind. "All that are in the* graves shall 
hear the voice of the Son of God and come forth." 
"All shall stand at the judgment-seat of Christ." Of 
these facts Christ is the announcer and the pledge to all. 
But he is "the author of eternal salvation" — only "to 
those who obey him." He giveth everlasting life 
44 



346 

— only to his "own sheep" whom he "knows" and 
who "follow" him. Nay, more ; this everlasting life 
is represented as capable of being begun and enjoyed 
even here. " He that believeth on the Son of God hath 
everlasting life." " He that heareth my word, and 
believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, 
and shall not come into condemnation ; but is passed 
from death unto life." " I am the resurrection and the 
life : he that believeth on me, though he were dead, yet 
shall he live : and whosoever liveth and believeth in me 
shall never die." " Verily, verily, I say unto you, if a 
man keep my sayings, he shall never see death." 

It seems impossible to understand such declarations 
as relating to mere existence. They seem rather to 
imply, in the gift of life and everlasting life bestowed 
by Jesus, some most important benefits connected with 
the spiritual condition of his followers. They seem, 
in fact, to imply that what he gives is a principle of 
wise, pure, holy, and happy existence, available both for 
time and for eternity — a living seed, as it were, of right- 
eousness and peace and hope and confidence and joy, 
which, being deeply planted in the soul, shall go on, 
both here and hereafter, growing, flourishing, and 
abounding more and more in lovely, pleasant, and re- 
freshing fruits. 

This view of the life which Jesus gives appears to 
me confirmed j when I consider to what, in Scripture, it 
is represented as opposed. It is opposed to a state of 
unreconciled estrangement from God. " He that be- 
lieveth not the Son, shall not see life ; but the wrath of 
God abideth on him." It is opposed to a state of con- 
demnation. " They that have done good shall come 



347 

forth to the resurrection of life ; but they that have 
done evil, to the resurrection of condemnation." It is 
opposed to every form and variety of the carnal mind. 
"To be carnally minded is death ; but to be spiritually 
minded is life and peace." It is opposed to all the 
fruits and consequences of sin. " The wages of sin is 
death ; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus 
Christ our Lord." 

Above all, this view of the life bestowed by Jesus 
appears to me confirmed by our Lord's own description 
of it. " This is life eternal, that they may know Thee 
the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast 
sent." Here, apparently, we have his own explanation, 
that the great and precious boon which he has to con- 
fer, is that knowledge of the Divine character and the 
Divine will and the Divine provisions of " grace, mercy, 
and peace," which contains in it, not merely the only 
sure ground of hope with respect to another life, but the 
only principles of safe, serene, holy, and happy existence 
both here and hereafter. 

And these principles we have, and can have, only 
as disciples, believing and obedient disciples, of Jesus 
Christ. " God hath given unto us eternal life ; and 
this life is in his Son." It is in his instructions which 
are the words, and in his character arid conduct which 
are an image, of God. It is in his warnings and 
threatenings which rouse us to perceive the danger and 
hatefulness of sin ; and in his example which sets 
before us the perfect beauty of holiness. It is in his 
earnest exhortations which move us to repentance ; and 
in his promises of acceptance and pardon which cheer 
and sustain the penitent. It is in his life which shows 



348 

us what is meant by a state of friendship and favor 
with God ; and in his death by which he has sealed 
the covenant of Divine mercy to those who will turn 
from their sins and be reconciled unto God. It is in 
his resurrection by which he has made sure the hope 
of immortality ; and in his exaltation and glory which 
are a pledge of the joy remaining for his faithful fol- 
lowers. It is in his spirit of fervent piety and unwea- 
ried love which will be theirs also who through him 
are become the children of God. It is in all those influ- 
ences of help, comfort, and strength from above, all 
those holy and sustaining thoughts, enlivening hopes, 
and soothing assurances, which combine in the rich 
blessing of " grace, mercy, and peace, from God our 
Father and Jesus Christ our Lord." — All this life of the 
soul — all these principles of holiness and happiness, for 
time and for eternity, we have in Jesus Christ the Son 
of the living God. 

But what is it by which we can be said to receive 
them ? What is it which will enable us to lay hold on 
that eternal life which God giveth in his Son ? 

Even if the Scriptures were silent on this question, 
should we not at once perceive that it must be — faith ? 
— not a cold assent, or imagined assent, of the under- 
standing — not a formal acknowledgment of the lips — 
not a mere readiness to say Lord, Lord — not a contro- 
versial zeal for this or that name of honor as applied 
to him — not theological niceties and subtilties of dis- 
tinctions and definitions, — but faith — a real belief and 
hearty confidence in our Lord's words of instruction, 
warning and promise — a lively and practical application 
of his doctrines — an earnest use of the means and helps 
to which he directs us. 



349 

In all other matters but those of religion we laugh 
to scorn the pretence of a man's really believing that to 
be for his good, which is the reverse of that which he 
is constantly practising — his believing that to be an ad- 
vantage which, when offered, yea, when pressed upon 
him, he will not even hold out a hand to secure. It 
ought to be the same in religion. It ought not to be 
allowed that faith is there ever more than a name, a 
pretence, a fiction, when it prompts no desire, awakens 
no resolution, compels no exertion. Faith, real faith, 
cannot be inactive. It must, so long as it exists at all, 
be a stirring, working principle. And by such a prin- 
ciple, I repeat, it is that, even if the Scriptures were 
silent on the matter, we must expect to lay hold on that 
life which is in the Son of God. 

The Scriptures, however, are not silent. They re- 
peatedly, as we have already found, proclaim that this 
gift is for the believer — that it is the believer who " shall 
not come into condemnation " — the believer, who " is 
passed from death unto life " — the believer, who " hath 
everlasting life." — And do the Scriptures leave us in 
doubt what they mean by a believer ? Do they warrant 
us in supposing that it is every one who can repeat a 
creed, a form of words, even though it be all of " sound 
words ? " — O ! contemplate their believer as he appears 
in the glowing page of the Evangelist and the Apostle. 
Contemplate their believer in those strivings with the 
weaknesses and temptations of the flesh, in those yearn- 
ings of the spirit after holiness, in that godly jealousy and 
wariness and watching against sin, in that eager press- 
ing on to the mark for the prize of his high calling, in 
that trembling humility and self-distrust, that fervent 



350 

devotion and unwearied charity, — which are manifested 
in their embodyings of the Christian spirit. The be- 
liever of the Scriptures shows us clearly, in all these 
things, what is meant by faith. He makes us feel that 
he is dead to sin and to the world, because faith is 
living within him. He proves to us that he liveth, yea, 
and that his soul liveth by the faith of the Son of God. 

And now, fellow-christians, mark, I beseech you, 
the direct practical conclusions from this view of the 
life which Jesus giveth, and of the faith by which it is 
received. 

It becomes a question of vital, of awful importance, 
whether we are really partakers in this eternal life which 
God hath given in his Son. What signs have we that 
the word of life is abiding in us ? What signs, that we 
have received into our souls those lively and powerful 
principles of which Jesus is the author and giver ? 
What signs, that we have laid hold on eternal life by 
faith, and that what we call our faith is indeed that 
which the Scriptures mean by the name ? 

Have we no anxieties about the state of our souls ? — 
Have we no fears and jealousies lest sin should have 
dominion over us ? — are we not. watchful with prayer, 
that we may not fall into temptation ? — are we content- 
ed to go on from day to day without knowing, without 
caring, whether we are really advancing in holiness ? — 
are we satisfied with general acknowledgments, from 
time to time, of frailties, imperfections, and transgres- 
sions, while we really take no pains to grow in grace ? 
* — If we fail in temper, do we think it enough to confess 
occasionally the unhappiness of our tempers ? — If we 
offend in word, do we imagine all our guilt wiped away 



351 

by the occasional admission that we are hasty in our 
words ? — If we are negligent of any duties, moral or 
religious, are we easily satisfied with our excuses for 
neglecting them ? — Is, in short, the general character of 
our minds that of a self-complacent, self-indulging, easy 
and comfortable indifference ?— Oh ! then, my hearers, 
there is great reason for the fear that we have not yet 
received the life which Jesus giveth — that we have not 
yet drawn near unto him and made ourselves one with 
him by faith — that we are yet in a state which his 
Apostles would have called a state of unreconciled 
estrangement from God — a state of condemnation — a 
state of death — in which so long as we continue, Jesus 
is no Saviour to us, and in which if we leave this world, 
our resurrection will not be unto life. 

These are strong words ; but with the recollection 
of the Scriptures in my mind, I dare not make them 
less so. I believe too words of this kind to be needed 
by a large portion of the Christian world — aye, often 
by those who think themselves righteous and in no need 
of repentance. I believe that one great business and 
duty of the Christian preacher is to shake the founda- 
tions of that security on which men are apt to repose 
themselves, to assail and rend to pieces that insensibili- 
ty which is so often mistaken for the armor of a good 
conscience, and to sound, if possible, an awakening 
alarm in the ears of the spiritually dead. 

JSJot least is this his business and duty to be kept in 
mind, when he is discoursing on subjects, in some degree, 
of a controversial nature. It is too common for hearers, 
on such occasions, to be thinking more of the employ- 
ment furnished to their understandings, than of the im- 



352 

pressions needed by their hearts and consciences. Their 
attentionis too apttobe left chiefly, if not solely, occupied 
with the question, how the preacher managed his argu- 
ment, or how far they agree, or disagree, with him in 
his conclusions. That, I trust, will not be the only effect 
of the considerations in which we have now been en- 
gaged. Whatever other questions you may have thought 
answered, or, from a serious spirit of inquiry, may take 
upon yourselves to examine in connexion with the sub- 
ject of the present discourse, I do most earnestly hope 
that you will go away disposed and anxious to debate 
one great question with your own hearts — "Are we sure, 
or have we a right to be sure, that we are yet partakers 
in the grace of life, even that life which Jesus giveth, 
and which is to be received by faith in Him as the Son 
of God?" 

O my friends, let me beseech you to try this ques 
tion by what you can find in the Scriptures to be the 
signs and manifestations of this life of God in the soul 
of man, and by comparing them with your own habits 
of thought, conduct, and temper. Try it by the dispo- 
sitions which you find in yourselves to God and your 
fellow-men, to this world and the next. Try it by 
what has been your custom hitherto with respect to ac- 
knowledging God in praise, waiting on him in prayer, 
seeking him in his word, trusting and relying on him in 
the ways of his providence. Try it by what has hith- 
erto been your spirit with respect to the cares and 
pleasures and riches of this world. Try it by the 
amount of treasure which you can really tell yourselves 
you have laid up in heaven. Try it by ascertaining to 
what sort of objects your hopes, your desires, your af- 



353 

fections, your efforts, are mainly and prevailingly di- 
rected. 

This, rny friends, is the only way to know whether 
you can yet adopt as your own the words of the Apos- 
tle ; ; ' God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is 
in his Son." — O that by the blessing and grace of God 
through our Lord Jesus Christ, the words may become 
applicable, in all their fulness of meaning, to every one 
of us. Amen. 



PRAYER. 

O God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ ! We 
bless thee for the exceeding riches of thy grace bestow- 
ed on mankind through him. We bless Thee that Thou 
didst send him to be the author of eternal salvation 
unto all them that obey him. We bless Thee that 
Thou didst grant unto him power over all flesh, that 
he might give eternal life to as many as Thou hast 
given him. We bless Thee that in him Thou hast not 
only assured us of everlasting existence, but furnished 
to our souls the true means of peace and blessedness for 
time and for eternity. 

We pray that we may so with our inmost hearts re- 
ceive and feed upon the words of Thy beloved Son, as 
to find them continually to be indeed spirit and life. 
We pray that we may ever seek in them our rules of du- 
ty, our motives to diligence, our strength for trials, our 
hope amidst sorrow. We pray that, in our whole temper 
and conduct* we may be influenced by the knowledge, 
45 



354 

communicated in the gospel, of Thee the only true God, 
and Jesus Christ whom Thou hast sent. We pray that, 
as Thou wast continually present to the mind of Thy 
Son, as he rejoiced to behold Thee in all things, so we 
by giving up ourselves to his guidance, and teachings, 
may be enabled to have a like abiding, comprehensive, 
and cheering view of thy fatherly providence. We 
pray that all thy works, being contemplated in the light 
of Christian knowledge, all the events and changes of 
our lives, being considered and undergone in the spirit 
of Christian piety, and all our thoughts of things to 
come, being mingled with the promises of Christian 
hope, may be to us full of profit and encouragement; 
yea, O heavenly Father, full of Thee, and of Thy gra- 
cious, cheering and sanctifying influences. We pray 
that while the outward man goeth on to fulfil his destiny 
of decay and corruption, our inward man may be re- 
newed day by day through the enlivening faith of our 
Lord Jesus Christ ; so that weakness may be to us as 
strength, and sorrow as joy, and even death as life, in 
the confidence of our assurance that Thou wilt cause all 
things to work together for unspeakable and everlast- 
ing good to the humble and obedient believer in Thy 
Son. 

Hear us, O God, for Thy mercy's sake in Christ 
Jesus our blessed Lord ; for whom and through whom 
be unto Thee praise, thanksgiving and glory for ever- 
more. Amen. 



SERMON XXII. 



SPIRITUAL BLE S S IJY G S IJY CHRIST. 



Ephesians i. 3. 

* f BLESSED BE THE GOD AND FATHER OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST, WHO 
HATH BLESSED US WITH ALL SPIRITUAL BLESSINGS IN HEAVENLY 
PLACES IN CHRIST." 



The Christian dispensation claims to be regarded as a 
message, the most gracious and benignant, from heaven 
to earth. It is entitled, by way of eminence, the Gospel, 
or good news — " the glorious gospel of the blessed God." 
And by the songs of the celestial host it was ushered in 
as "glad tidings of great joy to all people." 

If ever its claims to such a character w T ere fully re- 
cognized, they were by the Apostle Paul. Throughout 
his writings, he appears laboring for words, sufficiently 
strong and expressive, to set forth his intense feeling of 
its worth, and to infuse into the hearts of his readers his 
deep and glowing sense of the obligations we are under 
to God, for the gift of his Son our Saviour. This feel- 
ing is strikingly displayed in the Epistle from which the 
text is taken. Whilst contemplating his "spiritual bless- 
ings in heavenly places in Christ," every earthly consid- 



356 

eration seems to vanish from his view — he rises supe- 
rior to all his afflictions — his chains are unfelt — his 
bondage is no more — he exults in the glorious and un- 
assailable liberty of the sons of God — and " bows his 
knees in, prayer unto the Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ" that he would grant his beloved converts also to 
become full partakers in those " unsearchable riches," 
which made him count all his sufferings light. 

What a mighty change, my friends, was here ! What 
a theme did the Apostle's condition present for devout 
wonder and holy gratitude S Here was the most zea- 
lous, the most bitter and infuriated persecutor of the 
Christian name, become its chief, its foremost, its most 
intrepid and distinguished advocate ! Instead of " breath- 
ing out threatenings and slaughter against, the disciples 
of the Lord," he was now pouring forth his fervent pray- 
ers on their behalf, instead of " compelling them to 
blaspheme," he was now "beseeching them to walk wor-. 
thy of the vocation wherewith they were called." In- 
stead of keeping the garments of those who shed the 
righteous blood of the first martyr to the faith, he was 
now. calmly waiting to be offered up himself, a devoted 
sacrifice to the same holy cause. The hand of God had 
been miraculously put forth to arrest him in his career 
of error. From the cruel zealot, the partizan of a ma- 
lignant faction, he had been gloriously changed into the 
generous and disinterested friend of all his race. The 
narrow spirit of the Pharisee was gone, and in its place 
was given " the spirit of power, and of love, and of a 
sound mind." He felt himself raised in the scale of 
being. He was regenerated. He was made a new 
and nobler creature. And more than this, he was chos- 



357 

en to be an apostle — singled out by Heaven to " preach 
among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches pf Christ." 
For tli is astonishing change and this high distinction, he 
seems ever at a loss how to make a suitable return — 
how to do enough to atone for his former opposition, and 
show a becoming sense of his obligations to God, for 
the " spiritual blessings with which he had blessed him 
in heavenly places in Christ." 

But distinguished as was the Apostle, and strongly 
as he felt the blessedness of the change which his con- 
version wrought in him, there were thousands then be- 
sides, able to join with him in his glowing expressions 
of devout thankfulness to God. We, who have been 
brought up under the benign influences of the gospel 
from our earliest years, can hardly form a distinct con- 
ception of the joy, which a converted heathen must have 
felt, on being introduced into its marvellous light ; and 
we are often in danger of undervaluing and neglecting 
its blessings, from not having experienced the evils of 
that condition from which it has saved us. We think 
not of the wretched gloom in which we might still have 
been enveloped. We do not realize to our minds that, 
but for its help, the state of the heathen world might at 
this moment have been our's — that we might have been 
in the same or even a still more deplorable need of those 
"spiritual blessings," on the reception of which the Apos- 
tle rejoices with his fellow-disciples. Let this thought, 
however, accompany our meditations, and call forth our 
most lively gratitude to God, while we now briefly con- 
sider how much the gospel did for its first Gentile con- 
verts. 

And first, it rescued them at once from the bondage 



358 

of idolatry. Imagine, my friends, a mind continually- 
harassed with the belief, that it was made to be the 
sport of a thousand wayward and capricious beings, ea- 
sily offended and hard to be appeased, perpetually man- 
ifesting their favor or displeasure in the most trivial 
events, and constantly demanding the most unmeaning 
ceremonies, and disgraceful rites, and cruel sacrifices — ■ 
and what a load must it have felt taken off, what a bless- 
ed deliverance, when brought to the assurance that these 
Gods many, and Lords many, were nothing more than 
the creatures of fancy ! But, oh, what glad tidings to 
the poor oppressed and bewildered spirit to learn, that 
instead of the vengeful Deities whom it had so ignorant- 
ly worshipped, it was under the care of One Almighty 
Being, who was ever watching over it for good, and on 
whom it might rest its affections, and in whom it might 
trust, and to whom it might pray, as its Father in 
heaven ! Had this been the only truth the gospel had 
given — had it done nothing more in freeing the captive 
mind, and delivering them that sat in darkness, well 
might they have joined with the Apostle, in pouring 
forth strains of fervent gratitude to God, for his " spir- 
itual blessings in Christ." To them, its light must have 
been like the ray that broke into the dungeon of Peter ; 
the heavy chains of superstition fell from around them, 
and they walked forth into the blessed sunshine of heaven. 
II. But besides this, the gospel put them in the way, 
and -furnished them with the means, of purifying and 
exalting their moral nature, to a degree of which before 
they had scarcely an idea. When they were taken 
away from the shrines of idolatry, it was not merely 
that their minds were liberated from a galling yoke — 



359 

that their souls were set free from the spells of super- 
stition. There was a far higher good than this. They 
v/ere cut off from all those abominations, those debasing 
and brutalizing rites, which Heathenism enjoined on her 
poor deluded votaries. They had not now, as formerly, 
a plea for passion and encouragement to vice, in the 
example of their Gods. They were brought into the 
presence of all-seeing purity, and their only oblations 
were to be those of holiness and virtue, their only sac- 
rifices those of a meek, resigned, and obedient spirit. 
They had not now, as formerly, a justification for their 
errors, in the uncertainty of moral speculation and jar- 
ring systems of philosophy falsely so called. The rule 
of life was plainly and distinctly laid down before them. 
The path they had to tread could not be mistaken ; 
with the gospel for their guide they could not go wrong. 
In the way which it prescribed they might securely 
walk, for they were walking in the way prescribed by 
infinite wisdom and infinite love. Here they must be 
safe. Here they could have nothing to fear. To all 
their past offences, penitence was now divinely author- 
ized to set the seal of pardon ; and conscience could 
not but bestow its blessing of peace. 

III. They had now also faith in an eternal life, to 
animate them in the way of well doing, to refresh their 
wearied spirits and console their wounded hearts. 
This is to the growth of holiness and virtue as the ge- 
nial sunshine to the plants and flowers of earth, main- 
taining their vigor, expanding their loveliness, and 
bringing them to perfection. Till Jesus came, they 
had pined and languished through the want of it. Of 
gifted sages, some there were who saw the index of na- 



360 

ture pointing to another life, and thought they could dis-^ 
cover characters of immortality written upon the soul. 
Yet was there room for anxious and distressing doubt 
even to them ; and to men in general, such indications 
were far too dim and obscure, to produce any thing like 
clear and satisfactory conviction, full and decided faith. 
But when they were brought to sit at the feet of Christ, 
they could no longer doubt. The glorious truth was 
their own ; not as an inference of reason, but the au- 
thoritative teaching of Heaven — not as a perchance, 
but " the promise of God, yea and amen." Now a 
new aspect was given to every event, a new light shed 
on every thing around them. Their being was no long- 
er an enigma too dark for them to solve, or only asking 
them to guess at the endfor which it was given. Time 
they clearly saw was no other than a season of prepara- 
tion for eternity. It might with truth be said, a new 
rank was 'assigned to them in creation— from mortals 
they were raised to the dignity of immortals. And as 
such, they learned to look with altogether different eyes 
on whatever befel them. What concerned their out- 
ward and perishable frames became nothing in compar- 
ison with that, which had to do with the undying prin- 
ciple within. Earthly goods they had in common ; and 
those temporal afflictions, which they had heretofore 
regarded only as tokens of wrath from some vindictive 
Deity, they now received as ministers of mercy, sent by 
their heavenly Father to purify their affections, to wean 
them from the world, to perfect their holiness, and thus 
to add another wreath of glory to their unfading crown. 
The wild wail and lamentation which once followed 
their bereavements, were now exchanged for the tran- 



361 

quil sorrow that sorrows not without hope. Death had 
indeed changed its very nature. Where before they 
looked for certain defeat, they now beheld the victory 
their's — where before they saw little else than dark and 
dreary night, faith opened to their view a world of light 
and peace and everlasting joy. 

Such, briefly, was the change which the gospel 
wrought in the minds and hearts of its heathen con- 
verts — such the " spiritual blessings with which God 
blessed them in heavenly places in Christ." The sense 
which they entertained of their value was shown by 
the sacrifices they made for their sake. For them they 
counted all things but loss. For them the nearest con- 
nexions were broken, the tenderest sympathies were 
severed, and rather than part with them they parted 
with life itself. And so, in every age, there has been a 
devoted few, who have esteemed them as a priceless 
treasure, the pearl for which they were ready to give 
up all besides. 

I have said before, that we are often in danger of 
not prizing the light of the gospel as we ought, from not 
realizing to ourselves the wretchedness of that gloom, 
in which, but for its aid, we might have been left. And 
yet, my friends, without this contrast — even though it 
had not had to emancipate the soul from such gross 
darkness — its doctrines are, in their own nature, such as, 
one would imagine, must necessarily attract the atten- 
tion, and conciliate the regard, of every thinking mind. 
I might go through all those, which impress upon us that 
every thing is under the government of infinite wisdom 
and benignity, and that however dark and mysterious they 
may sometimes appear, the dispensations of providence are 
46 



362 

all tending to the greatest possible good. But let us take, 
for instance, its grand leading discovery. I can scarcely 
figure to myself a reasonable being, who, after pass- 
ing through the varied scenes of human life, enjoying its 
pleasures, cultivating its friendships, strengthening its 
relations, and cherishing its affections, can be content 
to sink into cold unconsciousness like the unthinking 
brutes — can see the pall of oblivion stealing over him, 
heedless whether it is ever to be withdrawn — can watch 
the lamp of life quivering on the verge of death, with- 
out an anxious wish to know, whether it is ever to be 
rekindled — can see friend and lover dropping into the 
tomb, without his heart yearning to be satisfied, whe- 
ther there be not some other world beyond the grave, 
where their spirits may take up their sweet fellowship 
again. I know not what must be the feelings of his 
breast, who would not joy to be assured of such a world, 
even though he knew that it was to be a chequered 
scene like the present, pain mingled with pleasure, and 
smiles followed by tears. But how much more then, if 
it were to be, as to the righteous we believe it will be, 
a world where every trace of grief God's hand shall 
wipe away — where the days of mourning shall be 
ended — where death shall be swallowed up in vic- 
tory — and where pure and growing bliss, from a never- 
failing fountain, shall fill and refresh the soul forever. 
Every one, who rightly thinks and feels, must thirst for 
knowledge here — every one rejoice to silence his doubts, 
and put his anxieties to rest. And here the gospel comes 
with the offer of every reasonable satisfaction. It does 
not profess to answer all the vain inquiries which curio- 
sity may propose, nor to put an end to all the specula- 



363 

tions which fancy will suggest ; but on the momentous 
question, " if a man die shall he live again ?" its voice 
is most distinct and authoritative. It perpetually calls 
upon him as an immortal. In this character it exhorts 
him, it warns him, encourages and entreats him. "The 
gift of God," it declares to him, " is eternal life through 
Jesus Christ." No Christian, therefore, who is sincere 
in his profession, can doubt that he is born to live for- 
ever. This would be a contradiction in terms — at once 
to believe and to disbelieve, to receive Jesus as the pro- 
phet of God and to brand him as an impostor. 

There is but one consideration to damp the joy, 
which this sublime discovery is fitted to excite — but one 
thought to abate the desire that eternal life should dawn 
upon the grave. " They that have done evil shall come 
forth to the resurrection of condemnation." And if by 
this we were to understand, what so many unhappily 
believe, that the great mass of our brethren are to be 
raised from the slumbers of the tomb, for the sole pur- 
pose of enduring an unremitting and never-ending 
misery, I know not how the gospel could well be re- 
garded otherwise, than as a melancholy message of 
lamentation, and mourning, and wo. Such a doctrine, 
so inconsistent with every idea of justice, so repugnant 
to every feeling of mercy, I sincerely believe forms no 
part of that heavenly record, which teaches us to put 
our trust in God, as a God of boundless compassion and 
love. Whilst, therefore, I cannot but tremble at its 
awful denunciations against unrepented sin — whilst I 
believe that the sinner is raising up, in his own bosom, 
a most fearful enemy to his future peace, and that it 
will be the work of long and painful discipline to era- 



364 

dicate the deep corroding traces that have been left in 
his soul by habitual guilt — yet still I must also believe, 
that he will be in the hands of a Father, who chastens 
to reclaim, who will not cast from him his offending 
children in unpitying wrath, but eventually lead them, 
by the steps of suffering, to the throne of bliss. 

With these views of the Christian doctrine, I scarce- 
ly know how any man, but much less how one of con- 
sistent virtue, can avoid wishing its truth to be estab- 
lished. The principles and feelings which it cherishes 
can have no tendency but to good. They lay the foun- 
dation of all that is truly excellent and exalted in the 
human character, and the natural consequence of a 
sincere and enlightened faith must be to fill the heart 
with peace and joy. 

The only thought which can now interpose to abate 
the confidence of the reflecting and well-disposed mind, 
is this — Is it possible that these sublime expectations, 
these delightful visions which are opened before me, 
should ever become a joyful reality ? Can it be true 
that I, the poor child of earth, am born to live through 
eternity ? Glory that fades not — treasures incorruptible 
— felicities beyond all that eye hath seen, or ear hath 
heard, or heart conceived — can these be meant for me ? 
How shall I be assured of these things ? Where is the 
evidence to vanquish the doubts, which will rise in spite 
of myself, and which even gain strength from the 
ardor of my desire that these glorious assurances may 
be true ? How shall 1 be satisfied that I am not de- 
ceived by my own fond wishes ? — He who inquires 
into the truth of the gospel in this spirit, will not, I am 
confident, be without his reward. He will not, it is 



365 

true, find evidence so strong and overpowering as to 
leave his virtue without merit, so irresistible as to make 
his obedience next to necessary, and thus deprive it of 
that which constitutes its chief excellence. No ! But 
unless experience speaks false, he will find it of a nature 
to warrant the most cordial assent, and give birth to 
the most soul-sustaining and heart-cheering hopes. Such 
it has proved to the most virtuous and enlightened 
minds that ever blessed the world. Often has it been 
assailed, but every attempt at its overthrow has ended 
in displaying more clearly its strength ; and the waves 
of eighteen centuries, instead of impairing its founda- 
tion, have only.bfowght along with them fresh materials 
for its support. For my own part, the more I look into 
it, so great, so various and so wonderful does it appear, 
the more I am at a loss to discover, how even the most 
sceptical can fail to perceive that it must be the part of 
wisdom to govern our conduct by the precepts of the 
gospel, and live under the conviction that its sublime 
declarations will be ultimately realized. To him who 
is under no improper or unfortunate bias, the oftener it 
is examined the more satisfactory, I am persuaded, it 
will appear ; and by making himself familiar with it in 
all its variety and extent, it will gain such an ascen- 
dancy over his mind, growing with his growth, and 
strengthening with his strength, that he will eventually 
come to feel no more doubt of the fulfilment of those 
precious promises which it sustains, than that the sun, 
when he leaves the world at night, will revisit it on the 
morrow. 

For such a faith, my friends, let us be constantly 
striving, if we would know the full power of those 



366 

" spiritual blessings," which are mercifully offered to 
our acceptance in Christ. Having laid its foundation 
in reason and inquiry, let our observation and experi- 
ence be continually gathering round it materials of 
strength, so that we may raise thereon a loftier structure 
of good works, from which hope's delighted eye may 
catch still prouder prospects and more glorious views. 
Thus shall we get into a region of settled sunshine and 
peace. Though the floods should come and the winds 
blow, we shall still be safe — we shall still have an Al- 
mighty God for our Father, and an everlasting heaven 
for our home. • . - 

PRAYER. 

Almighty God ! It is our rejoicing that we are the 
creatures of thy hand and the subjects of thy care, 
and we would seek above all things a nearer and purer 
communion with Thee. May the heavens continually 
declare to us thy glory, and the earth thy excellence. 
May it be our delight to meditate on thy goodness, 
and to trace thy loving kindness in every thing around 
us. May thy providence, which preserves us from day 
to day, which supplies our wants and fills us with glad- 
ness, ever find in our breasts a meet return of thankful- 
ness and love. May we receive none of thy mercies, 
without at the same time receiving accessions of trust in 
Thyself, and binding our souls in a closer attachment to 
Thee. But, especially, may our gratitude be called forth 
by the remembrance of thy mercy in Christ Jesus. 



367 

May we feel the full power of his gospel. May its 
words of grace and hope be brought, in all their purify- 
ing and consolatory influences, home to our minds and 
hearts. May we reverence and love Thee as our Father 
in heaven. Whether we are in joy or in sorrow, still 
may we be assured that Thou art with us, and with us 
for good. Whether Thou givest or takest away, still 
may we bless thy holy name. Ever may we have be- 
fore us the cheering persuasion, that thy designs for us 
are not bounded by this present short and troubled 
scene, but that for all such as faithfully follow after thy 
will, Thou hast mansions beyond the grave, where the 
heart shall never ache, and the tear shall never flow, 
but unimagined bliss abides for evermore. Heavenly 
Father ! with sorrow must we confess we have not, in 
times past, made that improvement of our Christian 
privileges which we ought. Too often we have slighted 
thy goodness ; too often we have lost sight of the 
great end for which we were created, and in pursuing 
the trifles and follies of earth, wasted those precious 
moments which should have brought us nearer to Thee, 
and nearer to heaven. O may we be led to redeem the 
time, which may yet remain, in the working out of our 
salvation. May this world no longer delude us. May 
temptations no longer have power to draw us aside from 
the race of glory that is set before us. But in all things 
may we feel and act as immortal beings. While day 
by day is stealing from our little sum of life, may we 
find our treasure of sweet thoughts, from duties done, 
continually increasing. While year after year is run- 
ning by, and leaving us less and less to be enjoyed on 
earth, may we find our hopes of heaven continually grow- 



368 

ing on our souls, so that when the evil days draw nigh, 
we may still have a peace which the world cannot give, 
and calmly wait all the days of our appointed time, till 
our change come. And when our troubles here are past, 
and we descend the dark valley, may we be supported 
by thine arm and cheered by the light of thy love. 
Hear us, God of mercy, in this our prayer, which we 
offer in the name of Jesus Christ, through whom be 
glory unto Thee, world without end. Amen. 



SERMON XXlII 



SIMON THE MAGICIAN, OR THE WORLDLING 
SUBJECT TO TWO MASTERS. 



Acts viii. 18—22. 

AND WHEN SIMON SAW THAT THROUGH LAYING ON OF THE APOSLLES' 
HANDS THE HOLY GHOST WAS GIVEN, HE OFFERED THEM MONEY, SAY- 
ING, GIVE ME ALSO THIS POWER, THAT ON WHOMSOEVER I LAY HANDS, 
HE MAY RECEIVE THE HOLY GHOST. BUT PETER SAID UNTO HIM, THY 
MONEY PERISH WITH THEE, BECAUSE THOU HAST THOUGHT THAT THE 
GIFT OF GOD MAY BE PURCHASED WITH MONEY. THOU HAST NEI- 
THER PART NOR LOT IN THIS MATTER : FOR THY HEART IS NOT RIGHT 
IN THE SIGHT OF GOD. REPENT THEREFORE OF THIS THY WICKED- 
NESS, AND PRAY GOD, IF PERHAPS THE THOUGHT OF THINE HEART 
MAY BE FORGIVEN THEE." 



" Speak, that I may know thee," said an ancient to 
a person whose character he was desirous of studying. 
In fact, out of the abundance of the heart the mouth 
speaketh. Language is a second countenance, where 
the movements of the soul are painted, and which 
betrays its most secret mysteries. One word discloses 
to us the character of Simon the Magician. Simon 
speaks, and this odious word attaches itself for ever to 
his name, like a deep stain ; makes of that name a sym- 
bol of baseness, and the characteristic of a crime ; — -Si- 
47 



370 

mon speaks, and that word, which outrages the Apos- 
tles and astounds the Church, reveals to us the low 
principle of his actions, and the true nature of his use- 
less faith. 

It is, Christians, by this odious light that we are 
about to study this soul, exhibited to-day for your con- 
templation. Frightful, but instructive sight! This sight, 
my brethren, is that of the worldling, who calls himself 
a Christian, but with whom Christianity is powerless, 
because the world has placed its yoke and impressed 
its image on him. No one can serve two masters : 
such is the oracle of eternal wisdom. The worldling 
forgets it, and becoming the slave of the present and of 
his passions, offends God, w r hile he fancies that he 
serves him. Write on your heart this important truth ; 
and, witnesses of his shipwreck, learn to avoid the rock 
on which you see him perish. 

Simon the Magician pretends to obey two masters — 
his passions and his religion. Let us examine both, and 
contemplate the result of their combined action. Simon 
is the slave of selfish and low passions ; but he is not a 
hardened criminal, his heart is not inaccessible to truth. 
It is of little importance. He is the slave of his passions, 
and therefore the result is the same. Vanity is his first 
tyrant. He wished to be thought some great one : but 
how ? By the brilliancy of his talents, by his benefi- 
cence ? No ; by the falsehoods of a trickster. What 
an amount of baseness this character implies, and how 
many guilty actions does it permit ! Simon joins fraud 
to vanity. Could he, without deceit, gain himself the 
name of the great power of God ? He employs cor- 
ruption, for that is a necessary instrument of his false- 



371 

hood ; and he who wished to gain the Apostles by fil- 
thy lucre, was doubtless skilled in the purchase of ac- 
complices. He was moved by vile interest, for such im- 
postures are never disinterested. In a soul possessed 
by so many disgraceful passions, what place could there 
remain for ideas and affections of a higher order? Alas! 
his intellect, yes, his intellect itself seems weakened ; 
because, by serving as the instrument to his passions, it 
has lost the power of appreciating what does not con- 
cern them. He deceives himself so far as to think, 
that he could seduce with gold St Peter and St John! 
This man, who has the gift of subjugating the heart of 
the multitude, did not perceive in the soul of the two 
Apostles, that unknown God who filled it, and raised 
them above worldly interests ! Behold, how his pas- 
sions degraded his soul, deadened his intellect ; behold 
the master whom he obeyed ! 

But Simon is a Christian. Ought not his faith to 
have tempered his passions and purified his soul ? Ah, 
what faith ? That of a heart, possessed by trifling in- 
terests and fleshly passions ? Of a seduced imagination, 
which dreams of nothing but the deceits of vanity? 
Of an overpowered mind, skilled only in one thing, and 
that of no value ? Of a will, enslaved to guilty habits ? 
Simon was a believer — he had been baptized — he pro- 
nounced certain words — he performed some external 
acts, — but the inner man remained the same. Do 
you wish proof of this assertion ? Reflect on the origin 
of his faith. The miracles of Philip drew universal 
attention, and effaced the feigned prodigies of the im- 
postor. Simon, being conquered, is compelled to acknow- 
ledge in Philip the messenger of God, and to believe in 



372 

the word which he declares : his mind is convinced. 
But what power has this bare and cold conviction, to 
change the heart and purify the whole man ? Notice 
also the effects of this faith. He continued steadfastly 
with Philip, says the sacred historian, and was amaz- 
ed at seeing the signs and miracles which were done. 
But, even in this admiration, do you not discover some 
trace of his former disorder ? Is there in it nothing 
allied to the passion for wonders, that had become habi- 
tual to him — nothing, to the necessity which had grown 
up in his soul for dazzling exhibitions ? If he is 
really a Christian, would his faith have been restricted 
to a barren admiration ? If the word of life has really 
penetrated into his soul, and placed there that glowing 
spark which soon embraces the whole man, would he 
not weep over his past errors, before men and before 
God ? You ought to see him, you ought to hear him, 
confess, in the public places of Samaria, his imposture — 
disabuse those who had been its dupes, and restore to 
them what they had thereby lost. But no ! expect 
nothing of this sort from him. His vain faith is not 
of power sufficient to secure such a victory. Our text 
gives us another proof of it — it shows him to us in the 
hour of temptation. Peter and John arrive at Samaria, 
practise imposition of hands, confer the Holy Spirit. 
From their lips the faithful disciples receive those mar- 
vellous gifts, that enriched the primitive church, and 
sealed the testimony of the Most High. At this sight 
the heart of Simon is moved, his imagination is inflamed, 
and slumbering passion awakes with violence. Not that 
he envies the gifts of sanctification — but the prodigies 
which he sees effected, the eager attentions of the multi- 



373 

tude, the miraculous power of the Aposles, the means 
of giving, perhaps of selling, it. If faith reigned in his 
heart, it would tell him that these gifts were not to be 
obtained, but by devotedness and love — that every selfish 
motive and calculation was a sacrilege. But faith 
speaks in vain ; he knows not its language. Restricted 
to the narrow sphere of his mercenary ideas and of his 
selfish calculations, he fancies he may obtain for gold, 
a portion of that miraculous power, w 7 hich the eternal 
God had vouchsafed to confide to the Apostles of his 
Son ; and even — O strange presumption ! — the right of 
disposing of it. " He offered them money," says our 
text, " saying, Give me also this power, that on whomso- 
ever I lay my hands, he may receive the Holy Spirit." 
Blind creature ! dost thou think that the Highest God 
is a partner in thy fraud, and that the Holiest of all 
sells his eternal power for the gold of a sinful man? 
What profane idea dost thou form of that gospel, pro- 
claimed in heaven and upon earth — of that covenant of 
grace, formed with guilty and penitent creatures ? But 
these are things which his mind could not comprehend 
— which his heart could not feel. His faith is not equal 
even to that of demons, who tremble while they believe. 
He believes, but trembles not at the thought of the 
Lord of heaven and earth. O, at the hearing of that 
monstrous proposal, what noble indignation must have 
animated Peter ! Peter, who left his ship, his nets and 
his house, thought all things but refuse in comparison of 
the knowledge of Jesus Christ, and exposed himself to 
martyrdom, with his eyes fixed on the author and fin- 
isher of his faith ! How must he have drawn back, 
with astonishment and disgust, at the sight of the won- 



374 

derful blindness and baseness which that word reveals. 
We ourselves, my brethren, feeble, attached to the 
earth, chained to its interests, as we are, we almost 
think, on hearing this strange proposal, that he who 
makes it has not a soul like our own, and, with Peter, 
we are ready to exclaim, " thy money perish with 
thee." 

Now then, my brethren, you can answer the question, 
of what utility to Simon is the faith he professes ? It 
but renders him more guilty. He thought to serve 
two masters; but he adhered to the one and despised 
the other : and, pitiable fact, the master he has chosen 
is a world of vanity and wretchedness ; the master he 
has offended is the Lord of the universe. His choice 
is made, and he reaps the reward. To complete your 
knowledge of the state of his soul, attend to another 
feature, which will terminate his history and this mourn- 
ful picture. And, attend carefully, this feature is pos- 
terior to the event related in the text. When the 
governor, Felix, looked with adulterous eyes on that 
Drusilla, whom he had taken from her husband, Simon 
was the wretched man who was charged with the suc- 
cess of that odious plan ; and whilst Paul prepared to 
hurl terror into the hearts of this degraded couple, even 
while on the judgment-seat, Simon was forging the foul 
chains of Drusilla, by the aid of his deceitful arts.* 
Lamentable termination of this story, at once so sad, but 
so fitted to make us reflect ! But, my brethren, be not 
deceived. The history of Simon the Magician is the 
history not only of a man, but of a passion ; not of a 

* Josephus Antiq. lib. xx. c. 6. sect. 1. 2. 



375 

single person, but of the worldling ; that of the madman, 
who tries to serve two masters, and who in reality obeys 
nothing but the corruption of his own heart. 

The worldling, my brethren, is the man who desires 
and pursues nothing but perishing interests, pleasures, 
and success. This idolatrous Simon, in the bosom 
of the church, is a type of the miser, whose existence 
is devoted to the quest of the illusions of fortune ; the 
man of pleasure, who lives only for sensual enjoyments; 
the frivolous female, whom idle occupations and con- 
temptible conquests absorb; and of all the unreflecting 
and insensate beings who, happily rare amongst us, for- 
get, at the voice of their inclinations, the great object of 
life, and the approach of death ; they all think to serve 
two masters, and are in fact the slaves of him whom 
their heart has secretly chosen. In fact, all these 
pretended Christians are occupied in this life with one, 
and but one, thing : this awakens and supports their 
activity ; for this they have always time, strength, 
courage. All of them, to seize the prize at which they 
aim, display an enlarged intelligence, that presence of 
mind and continual attention, which are the ordinary 
pledges of success. Ail of them, on the other hand, by 
the devotement of their faculties to one sole object, 
seem to become powerless for every other. You would 
say, that their soul has irrevocably lost all power foreign 
to their dominant taste. Speak to this sensual man, of 
the pure enjoyments which thought, study, the peace of 
the soul, the devotion of a generous heart give, and his 
eyes, where perhaps a gross joy shines, grow forthwith 
dull, and are fixed on you with a mixture of surprise 
and effort. He seems to labor to understand the un- 



376 

known language which you use, and of which the little 
that he knows excites his astonishment or disdain. 
Speak to this selfish and clever speculator, of the rapid 
progress of the sciences, of the simple and sublime 
laws which nature obeys, of the affecting calculations 
of philanthropy, of the happiness of an elevated and 
independent mind — lie will reply by a smile of contempt, 
or by a jocose sally ; he will ask, how he is concerned 
in that which produces no gain, and forms no part of 
a mercantile arrangement. Speak to this frivolous be- 
ing, who is occupied solely in the humiliating triumphs 
of vanity, or the guilty triumphs of a malignant heart ; 
speak to him of the gift of God, of his eternal designs, 
and do you not see disgust and wearisomeness wrinkle 
his forehead, a hardly restrained impatience penetrate 
his features — yes, at hearing of those consoling truths, 
which are the Christian's joy and the admiration of 
angels ? Who can deny, that passion has entire posses- 
sion of these worldlings ? Who sees not, that it is the 
sovereign of their heart and mind ; that, in future, it 
will exert over them an absolute sway ? Yet are they 
members of the church ; they have believed in the Lord 
Jesus ! Yes, as did Simon : they believe with their lips ; 
they believe in words; if indeed their faith extends so 
far. However, they would be thought to believe. But 
where, then, is that victorious power of faith, and what 
place do they assign it in their hearts ? That trium- 
phant faith, heir of eternity, brought by the Son of God, 
with the acclamations of the heavenly host, and the 
transports of a ransomed world — is this designed to 
share, with low and sensual passions, the empire of a 
debased soul, and a degraded mind ? No, be not 



377 

deceived ; to lower it in this way, and to allot to it a 
secondary place, is not only to mistake its character, 
to outrage it, but to stifle and destroy it. With the 
worldlings of whom we speak, it is but a word. In 
proof, examine, as in the case of Simon, its origin and 
its effects. Its origin is almost always due to chance, 
to habit ; never to the profound feeling of a persuaded 
soul ; and therefore what can be its effects ? For it is 
not words that Jesus demands : by the fruit he has 
ordered us to judge of the tree. Where is the fruit 
that these trees produce ? Where are the works of 
these men of the world ? The rule of faith extends not 
even to their words. For I listen to them ; and 
interested maxims, and the follies of vanity, alone meet 
my ear. No word, no conversation, which indicates, in 
the least, the opinions and the affections of the Chris- 
tian. Nor does faith rule over their thoughts and sen- 
timents. Do, then, their solitary musings and their 
desires turn on their duty, the Saviour, his compassion, 
on eternity and its joys. I probe their minds ; and 
discover fond, often guilty chimeras, the fruit of an 
ardent imagination, and unbridled passion. This is 
the secret food of their heart. No more does faith 
direct their actions. I certainly see amongst them the 
industrious ability which characterises the children of 
this world ; but, for the world to come, scarcely some 
imperfect acts of charity, a little external observance, 
a few easy sacrifices, which the worldling often imitates, 
without love and without virtue, and by which he flat- 
ters himself, perhaps, that he buys the right of giving 
up himself more freely to his inclinations. False and 
guilty compensation, disallowed of religion ! It re- 
48 



378 

quires, on the contrary, the pious emotions which cha- 
racterise the true believer, humble and christian dispo- 
sitions, the love of God and of man. And where are 
these things ? 

I ask, again, where is their faith ? By what does it 
make its presence known ? It produces nothing ; it 
modifies nothing ; it never struggles. Do you not 
see, that this is that, dead faith, of which the Apostle 
speaks ? They are friends of the world ; and faith be- 
comes to them a stranger, soon, perhaps, an enemy. 
They are friends of the world ; and whatever is not 
the lust of the eyes, the lust of the flesh, and the 
pride of life, is insipid to them ; they can neither under- 
stand, nor endure it. Ah, if, realising the profane wish 
of the vile man whose history we now contemplate, 
faith set a price on its precious disclosures, its energetic 
influence — all the gift of God — you would then, perhaps, 
see them eagerly pursue this new source of gain. Pos- 
sessions, which they could touch and see ; graces, 
which they could buy and sell, would have some value 
in their eyes, and the religion of the Redeemer would 
then be worth some attention. But religion has nei- 
ther silver nor gold. It does not ornament, or flatter, 
or embellish the body ; it secures no joys, but those 
that are eternal ; it has no other end, but to transform 
men from glory to glory, in the image of the Lord. 
Let it, therefore, give place, every where, to the inter- 
ests of the senses and of passion ! No, friends of the 
world, no, light and darkness cannot be united. You 
cannot serve, at once, God and mammon. Behold the 
worldling then, my brethren, such as passion makes 
him. Poor, infatuated man !— what a life ! what a 



379 

career ! what wandering ! In order to engrave on 
your memory all the features of this disagreeable, but 
useful picture, contemplate a brief sketch of this unfor- 
tunate being ; place him, in thought, between the two 
masters whom he has pretended to serve, and, by the 
light of eternal truth, judge of the use that he makes of 
existence, and the fruit that he gathers from it. 

Born in the church, instructed in religion, he has 
seen what so many holy men and prophets in vain 
desired to know. Faith has invited him ; it has said 
to him, " My son, give me thy heart : I will make thee 
an heir of God, and a joint heir with Jesus Christ." 
But passion held him back ; cast her chains on him ; 
put into his hands the playthings of infancy ; and for- 
bade him to raise his heart on high. He obeyed ; he 
trampled under foot the blood of the Son of God ; 
labored for what profited not ; and walked amid vain 
shows. Meanwhile, the storms of life fell upon him, 
and threatened him with adverse fortune. Faith invited 
him, and said, " Come unto me, ye that labor, and are 
heavy laden, and I will give you rest." But passion 
held him back : it stopped him in the midst of suffering; 
threw him on a rock ; withheld all aid. He obeyed ; 
he remained to the end, beaten by the tempest ; in the 
midst of those clouds without water, those raging waves 
of the sea, those wandering stars, of which an Apostle 
speaks. The enemy of his salvation drew up against 
him, in array of battle, his various temptations. Faith 
invited him ; it offered to him every spiritual and divine 
weapon, and said, " I am the victory over the world." 
But passion held him back ; disarmed him, and led him, 
defenceless; to the monster sin. He obeyed ; he prosti- 



380 

tuted, in the service of the creature, that heart, where 
the Creator wished to dwell ; and sullied and defaced 
the image of his Maker. 

At last, the King of terrors stretched out his sceptre, 
and summoned him to appear. Faith invited him, and 
said, " 1 am the resurrection and the life ; though thy 
sins be red like scarlet, they shall be white as snow." 
But passion held him back ; darkened his understand- 
ing ; oppressed his heart ; commanded him to descend, 
alone and without support, into the valley of the death- 
shade. He obeyed. He rushed into the depths of 
eternity, seeking his gold, his pleasures, his luxury ; 
and the miserable man found only the hymns of Sera- 
phim — only the holy and virtuous emotions of the chil- 
dren of God ! Meanwhile, the judgment-seat is pre- 
pared : the law of liberty is opened, for a testimony ; 
and that law, to which he had voluntarily submitted 
himself. He had never thought of it ; scarcely did he 
know it. Oh ! at the sight of this excess of folly and 
misfortune, the imagination is troubled; the mind is 
confused ; and the soul, in amazement, can only exclaim, 
O inconceivable error ! O unfortunate man ! O just 
Judge ! 

Persons of the character I have now portrayed are 
rare amongst us. True, my brethren, those who real- 
ize all the parts of my description are rare ; but not so 
rare those who bear some resemblance to the picture. 
And when once our lips have touched the poisoned cup, 
shall we dare still to boast of our strength, and think 
ourselves out of danger ? Is it so rare, for a man to 
have an excessive and dominant inclination, with 
w r hich he tries to conciliate his religion ? Is it so rare, 



381 

to forget that religion ought to be applied to the regula- 
tion of our conduct, our sentiments, our words ? that 
it ought to govern our whole being ? Let us probe our 
hearts, and then reply, ^es, probe your heart ; and, in 
the presence of God, examine, search, study it, in sin- 
cerity. Notice that constantly increasing quest of gain, 
however useless the gain to you. Notice that turbulence 
of desires and hopes, in all that touches that sensitive 
chord. Are these the fruits of the love of God, or of the 
love of the world ? Of others I would ask, whence comes 
that taste for luxury and for splendor ? that continual oc- 
cupation with frivolities? that excessive complaisance, 
that skill in discoursing on trifles, so little worthy of a 
thinking being, and an immortal soul ? Are these 
the fruits of the love of God, or of the love of the 
world ? Of you also, what is betokened by that thinly 
disguised selfishness, that importance which is attached 
to all that gratifies the senses? by those sacrifices 
to pleasure, and to effeminacy ? by those hours, those 
precious hours, claimed by heaven and duty, but so 
often wasted in frivolous distinctions, or in an easy 
indolence ? Are these the fruits of the love of God, or 
of the love of the world ? Of you, too, I ask, what 
is indicated by that lukewarmness for heavenly things, 
for public worship, for prayer ? by that eagerness, on 
the contrary, for all those trifling circumstances, which 
each day sees come and go ? By the whole of that life, 
spent in puerilities and pitiful pursuits ? Are these, 
tell me, are these the fruits of the love of God, or of 
the love of the world ? Ah, let us enter into our hearts, 
and, without attempting to hide it from the eyes of 
God, as we hide it from the eyes of men, let us acknow- 



382 

ledge, — in those disorderly emotions which agitate it, 
in those wretched interests which absorb it, in that lan- 
guor which dries it up, — let us acknowledge the poison- 
ed fruits of the love of the world ! 

My brethren, let us not deceive ourselves as to our 
condition ; and allow me to speak to you freely. The 
faults I have spoken of are not, I grant, very serious ; 
but they imply dispositions always fatal to virtue. I 
do not say that the disease is mortal ; but I do say, that 
this is the habit, and this the temperament, which 
occasion deadly maladies ; I do say, that these are the 
fruits, and consequently the tokens, of the love of the 
world : and the love of the world, once rooted in the 
heart, grows incessantly ; increasing its strength, and 
extending its empire, until it has reduced religion into 
a form — -a word. With these dispositions, we are not 
yet, indeed, worldlings; but we are in the greatest peril 
of becoming worldlings, except events, ordered by 
the Divine goodness, snatch us from our insensibility. 
With these dispositions, — reckoning on some vague reso- 
lutions and on some insignificant deeds ; but forgetting 
our promises ; fighting without energy ; passing from day 
to day, from pursuit to pursuit, from pleasure to plea 
sure; without ever having tried to ascend the stream, 
without ever going to seek, in a serious meditation, in 
a fervent and effectual prayer, that moral life, which 
grows weaker every hour; that piety, which is no 
longer ours, — we shall at last find ourselves, perhaps 
before we have perceived it, on the brink of the abyss, 
at the gates of death, estranged from God ; with a faith 
without life ; a heart without strength ; an incurable 
indifference, and an invincible dislike, for the lessons of 



383 

Jesus. Oh, I conjure you, do not close your eyes on 
yourselves ; do not delay till to-morrow ! I would that 
it were given me, to warn you with the powerful voice 
of Peter, and to make these inspired accents echo in 
the .depth of your conscience : " Repent, and pray 
God." I would say to you, as he said to Simon, — Repent, 
immortal souls ! You are not solely destined to crawl 
a few days on this vain earth. Not for to-day, not for 
to-morrow, were you created ; but for eternity. Eterni- 
ty ! does not that word raise your thoughts ; does it not 
revive your energy ? Does it not remind you, that 
your nature is only a little inferior to the angels ; that 
you were created in the image of God ? O, do not, 
then, lower yourselves to the brutes ; do not prison 
yourselves within the present ; do not grovel in the 
mire. Repent, souls fond of life ! Not in trifles ; not 
in splendor ; not in fame, will you find the happiness 
that you seek in vain from the whole of nature. What ! 
do you need nothing more than these childish play- 
things ? O, listen to those boundless desires which rise 
within you ; listen to that want of knowing, of ad- 
miring, of loving ; listen to that internal voice, which 
seeks from you all that is beautiful, all that is just, all 
that is pure, all that is virtuous, all that is divine ; listen 
to the voice of God, which, despite of yourselves, speaks 
within you, and which would render you partakers of 
his happiness, as of his holiness. Souls, ransomed of 
Christ, repent ! Did he wash you in his blood, that 
you might remain slaves of the world ? You believe ; 
you have been baptised; but can this satisfy your 
obligations, and his rights, whilst, contenting yourselves 
with the occasional exclamation of "Lord, Lord," you 



384 

close your ears to his voice ? Ah, he died for you ; 
and to him, therefore, not to yourselves, you belong. 
You have made the engagement ; made it of your own 
accord. You are his — eternally his. Your sentiments, 
your faculties, your love, all belong to him. You. are 
temples, where his spirit desires to dwell. Take care 
you do not profane his abode. Souls, amenable to the 
bar of God, repent ! The moment comes, when you 
are to appear there. You are about to render an ac- 
count of your tastes, of your labors, of your pleasures, 
of your choice of God or the world ; and to God it is 
that you will have to render it. Oh, while it is yet 
to-day, harden not your hearts. While yet faith is not 
wholly extinct in your bosom ; while yet you under- 
stand the words, virtue — eternity ; before the frozen 
hand of the world has withered, effaced, destroyed all 
— repent ! 

But how ? How snatch oneself from the world ; 
how change one's heart ? " Repent, and pray God." I 
say again, in the words of Peter, " Pray God." Employ 
the remnant of strength and piety which the world has 
not destroyed in your hearts — employ them in throwing 
yourselves into the arms of your Heavenly Father ; in 
meditating, in his presence, on the great struggle which 
he enjoins on you ; in seeking victory from him. "Pray 
God :" — it is prayer which will revive in you the thought 
and the love of celestial things ; that will acquaint you 
with an entirely new order of hopes and pleasures ; that 
will render religious meditations, victories over self, and 
christian employments familiar and sweet to you; that will 
cause you to live a life, of which you have now no expe- 
rience — an inward and elevated life, because prayer will 



385 

infuse into your bosom a new and celestial element — the 
love of God. "Pray God:" — his powerful agency will 
make the road of virtue easy without — remove obsta- 
cles within ; will touch your heart, raise your affections 
on high ; will make you understand, will make you 
feel, how agreeable is the love of him — what unutter- 
able charm the faithful disciple feels, at his feet, and 
under his hand. 

My brethren, my dear brethren, salvation is before 
us ; God aids us ; God speaks to us ; still is there time ; 
but the night approaches, and the day is far spent : let 
us repent; let us pray God. Yes, glory and honor 
belong to him, who, relying on repentance and prayer, 
without fixing his regards on vanities that perish, shall 
have respected his soul ; shall have prepared it for eter- 
nity, by noble sentiments, by elevated enjoyments, by 
religious emotions ; and he shall gain at last the crown 
of righteousness, which his Saviour has promised him. 
Glory and happiness belong to the citizens of heaven ! 
Almighty God ! we wish to be thine : give thy strength 
to thy feeble children ; give us a living faith ; give us 
a pious heart ; in the name of Jesus Christ, give us the 
victory ! Amen. 



PRAYER. 

Thy creatures, thy children, thy redeemed, O God ! 

come to Thee, to ask thy protection, pardon and aid. 

Eternal Spirit ! slow to anger and rich in mercy, good 

to all ; to whom should we go, but to Thee ? Thou 

49 



supportest those that waver ; Thou raisest up those that 
are cast down. All thy creatures look to Thee ; Thou 
givest them their food in due season. Thou fulfillest 
the desires of those who fear Thee, and Thou art near 
to those who call on Thee in sincerity. Why then, O 
Lord, do we not love Thee ; why do we not seek Thee ; 
why do we not prefer Thee, to all that disappoints and 
perishes ! O God ! do Thou thyself release us from 
the treacherous vanities, which our Master trod under 
foot, and which he has ordered us to renounce. Remove 
from our hearts those seducing illusions, which inter- 
cept the rays of thy grace, and hinder us from loving 
Thee. Long enough have we labored for what perish- 
es ; sought what flees from us ; loved what deceives us. 
We have need of a refuge with Thee, who dost never 
disappoint, and who layest up treasures of peace and 
joy for those that obey Thee. Take us to Thyself, great 
God, so that nothing may lead us away from our great 
task, nor from the lessons of Jesus Christ. Change us, 
and we shall be changed. Let the example of Jesus be 
always before our eyes ; let his blood take away our sins ; 
and let his love reign in our hearts. Then shall we 
really live ; then shall we know how great are the bless- 
ings which Thou treasurest up for those who fear Thee. 
Then we shall rejoice in hope, and be stronger than dis- 
quietude and grief; then we shall repose on Thee, with 
composure and joy, the care of our future lot, of our 
kindred, our friends ; then thy blessing, asked out of a 
pure and sincere heart, will rest on us, and be our dear- 
est possession. We beg of Thee, O Lord, thy precious 
blessing, and we ask it in the name of Jesus Christ. 



SERMON XXIV. 



THE CONNEXION OF UNIVERSAL BEING, 
AND ITS DEPENDENCE UPON A BENIG- 
NANT PROVIDENCE. 



Hosea ii. 21—22. 

; AND IT SHALL COME TO PASS IN THAT DAT, I WILL HEAR, SAITH THE 
LORD, I WILL HEAR THE HEAVENS, AND THET SHALL HEAR THE EARTH, 
AND THE EARTH SHALL HEAR THE CORN, AND THE WINE, AND THE OIL ; 
AND THEY SHALL HEAR JEZREEL." 



Jezreel, (or seed of God) was the name of a city 
in the tribe of Issachar, and of a valley or plain in 
which the city stood, and which was remarkable for its 
fertility. The vineyard of Naboth was there, the 
desirableness of which cost him his life, and occasioned 
the downfall of the family of Ahab. It was also the 
name which the prophet was instructed to give one of 
his sons ; his family being made typical of different por- 
tions of the house of Israel, and illustrative of the 
predictions which he was commissioned to deliver con- 
cerning their captivity and restoration. Either of these 
applications of the term will accord with its introduction 
in the text; and they both occur in Hosea, the one 



388 

sometimes allusively to the other. Jezreel may be 
either the valley which bore the corn, wine and oil ; 
or the obedient part of the nation, restored to the 
country from which they had been carried away, cul- 
tivating its soil, and enjoying its rich produce. I 
incline to the latter interpretation, as naturally indicated 
by the connexion : but the diversity is only a trifling 
variation of the figure, and does not at all affect the 
meaning and scope of the passage. Among other 
calamities, preludes, as it were, of the great desolation 
of their captivity, the Israelites had probably experi- 
enced that of unfruitful seasons. The heavens had 
withheld their genial showers, and the earth locked up 
her stores in churlish barrenness, and even the inhabit- 
ant of the sheltered and fertile Jezreel had sought 
vainly for its usual bountiful return of corn, grapes, or 
olives, to his labors. These were threatening intima- 
tions of the heavier storm that was coming. They 
were predictive warnings, which, however disregarded 
by the people, must have affected the prophet's mind 
with peculiar solemnity, seeing, as he did, the mass 
of misery which they foreboded. Well was it for his 
own feelings that his mission included something more, 
and extended beyond the threatening of the evil day, 
to the promise of a bright and peaceful evening. One 
of the characteristics of this book is the frequent transi- 
tion from the most distressful, to the most delightful 
annunciations of futurity. Amid all that was adapted 
to alarm the disobedient many, there was a tender 
regard for the consolations and hopes of the pious few. 
The text is a passage of this description ; rendered, as 
I have already intimated, more appropriate and beau- 



389 

tiful by the probable fact of their having suffered from 
seasons of barrenness. It practically, yet philosophical- 
ly, depicts the harmony of universal nature, operating 
under the benignant direction of Providence for the good 
of man. " I will hear, saith the Lord, 1 will hear the 
heavens," petitioning, as it were, for the fiat of Omni- 
potence to pour down the rains that cause to vegetate, 
or to shine propitiously upon, and ripen, the produce of 
the earth : " and they shall hearthe earth," which, parch- 
ed with drought, seems to look up in supplication for 
those showers, or, pointing its green fruits towards the 
sky, begs for a glowing sun to bring them to maturity ; 
" and the earth shall hear the corn, the wine and the 
oil," suppliants for its maternal aid, and dependants on 
the bounty of its soil to receive their roots, and nourish 
their growth, and send strength through every stem, 
and branch, and fibre ; " and they shall hear Jezreel," 
the husbandman or vine-dresser, personified Israel, (the 
seed of God, and in this position representing human- 
kind,) who deposits the seed, or trains the plant, and 
watches it in wistful earnestness, and depends upon its 
increase for the support of his frame and the gladness 
of his heart. What a golden chain is here formed from 
man to the productions which constitute his immediate 
nutriment, from them to the earth which is their nurse, 
from that to the heavens on whose influences its fer- 
tilizing powers depend, and from those heavens to His 
throne who is the Father and Lord of all, the source of 
all good. One seems to feel the piety of the sentiment 
more for this circuitous tracing of man's enjoyment to 
his Maker's bounty. We find that all second causes, 
tarry in them as long as we will, and multiply them as 



we may, yet must terminate in a great first cause. The 
more we delay to arrive at that conclusion, the more 
inevitable do we find our coming to it at last. On 
whom does man depend ? is a question which may be 
evaded once, twice, or thrice, by the introduction of 
intermediate agency ; but it cannot be evaded forever. 
The Deity cannot be excluded from his own universe. 
And piety, assuredly not wishing to exclude him, but 
rather to trace him the more generally, and feel his 
presence the more deeply, looks round from one object 
to another, and sees how each is linked to each by mu- 
tual influences, and beholds his Providence in their 
connexion, and rejoices to see all suspended from his 
footstool ; and adores him, as, not less benignantly than 
powerfully, pervading the whole system. 

The prophet's description is, in the true spirit of 
poetry, the selection of a particular instance which is 
adorned with all the beauty of imagery, and then put 
forward as the illustration of a principle. It may be 
usefully generalized. I would do this by two remarks — 
first, it is the fact that there is such a connexion as he 
has intimated, not only in that particular case, but in 
all the regions of matter and of mind, blending them 
together, making them one ; and secondly, that the 
influence of this fact upon our feelings and conduct, its 
righteous tendency, or unrighteous application, its gloom 
or gladness, must arise from the notions of the divine 
character with which it is associated in our convictions. 

And first, of the fact itself; if we regard only the 
material universe — I mean by the expression only that 
which is visible and tangible — there is not merely a 
community of properties, but a reciprocity of influence, 



391 

from the minutest to the mightiest substances, from 
the nearest to the most remote, from the grain to the 
mass, from the mass to the mountain, from the moun- 
tain to the island or continent, from that to the solid 
globe, from our globe to the solar system, from that 
system to other systems, having their relative positions 
and combined movements, until it expands beyond our 
sense or imagination in the multiplicity of worlds, and 
the boundlessness of space. 

And as this connexion seems to have for its boun- 
daries only those of all present existence, as to space ; 
so it appears to have only those of all past existence, as 
to time. It extends through the universe ; it goes back 
to creation. The natural phenomena of any one month, 
its heat or cold, rain, snow or sunshine, its serenity or 
storms, the quantity and quality of its vegetation, in 
short, the whole assemblage of its combinations, in all 
the diversity of their appearances, is obviously influenced 
by those of the preceding month, and those as obviously 
by the phenomena of the season before that, and so on, 
in unbroken series backwards, from month to month, 
season to season, year to year, and age to age, till we 
ascend in the natural history of the world up to the 
very starting point of its existence, the fountain of its 
being, the original endowment of its atoms with those 
simple properties which are the ultimate physical solu- 
tion of what is and has been. 

We have been referring only to what is unconscious : 
if we take the mind and life of man, it will be seen that 
the thoughts of the one and the events of the other, 
have a similar connexion, and are under similar influ- 
ences. Let a man recal at night, so far as he can 



692 

recal, whatever has passed through his mind during the 
daj ; or rather, let him analyze the thoughts of a smaller 
portion of time, and one more easily brought under 
review. He will find no idea springing up spontane- 
ously in his mind, without something to introduce it, 
and account for its occurrence ; something which stands 
to it in relation of a cause, itself the effect of some- 
thing which preceded. The whole amount of his 
thoughts, for that period of time, will be assignable to 
but two sources ; the mental stock which he possessed 
at its commencement, and external influences, the 
objects he has beheld, the books he has read, the friends 
who have addressed him : and it would consist of 
several series of ideas of which the latter were the 
exciting causes, while the former furnished the materials. 
Thought follows thought, in the order in which they have 
been formerly associated, till some new sensation (i. e. 
external impression) interrupts that sequence, and 
originates a new one. Could the process be applied to 
past days and years, the result would be still the same ,* 
the mental store and external impressions would account 
for all ; but the former would be constantly diminish- 
ing, until we arrived at intellect in the nakedness of 
birth, receiving its first ideas from without. Thus the 
conviction over which some one is brooding in delight, 
and which is ministering consolation to the sorrows of 
his lot, or brightening its enjoyments, he can ascribe to 
the instructions of a venerable friend, now perhaps 
mouldering in his grave, but who, by this memorial, 
" though dead, yet speaketh ; " while he derived it from 
some volume, the depository of the lessons of wisdom of 
one who lived in ages long gone by ; and he acquired it 



393 

by observation on characters around him, which in a 
similar way were formed by those who went before ; 
and thus back to the origin of all things. Or to trace, 
not merely thoughts, but events, in the opposite course : 
what seemingly more insignificant than the dream of a 
child, and yet had it not been for that of Joseph, the 
envy of his brethren might never have risen to such a 
pitch (it did not with Benjamin who w T as similarly 
situated) and his death would not have been plotted, 
and then he would not have been sold to the Midianites, 
nor perhaps have ever seen Egypt, nor have been the 
slave of Potiphar, nor become the ruler of Egypt, nor 
have saved the lives of his brethren and their families 
in the famine ; and thus, pursuing the history, the omis- 
sion of that single circumstance would nullify all that 
followed, and Moses would neither have been born, nor 
perilled, nor saved, nor Israel enslaved and delivered, 
and the whole course of Jewish narrative must have 
been different to the present day. All these occurrences 
were doubtless means to effect the ends of Providence ; 
but that they were means illustrates the fact, that all 
things are thus connected, in the moral, as in the natu- 
ral world, though we may not always have the materi- 
als for so clearly tracing their course. That which is 
true in this respect of one mind, and one life, is true of 
all. The waters of humanity, its lowliest rills, and its 
mightiest rivers, all flow from a common source. The 
universe may be regarded as a great machine ; this is a 
fact which is capable of establishment independently of 
theological opinions ; but it is one which depends upon 
the theological opinions associated with it for the charac- 
ter of its moral influence. The most awful difference 
50 



394 

is produced by our believing, or not, that this machine 
has a mover, and had a maker ; and by the notions we 
entertain of his dispositions and designs. 

Some blend this fact with a denial of a God. They 
observe, to revert to the imagery of the text, that man 
derives support from the produce of the earth, and earth 
its fertility from the influences of the heavens ; that 
the corn, wine and oil hear Jezreel, and the earth hears 
the corn, wine, and oil, and the heavens hear the earth ; 
but there they pause, and deem not that the Lord hears 
the heavens. They see that there is every where a 
connected succession of events ; that each is at once a 
cause, and an effect ; and yet, they infer not a designed 
object and a first cause. One knows not which is great- 
est, the absurdity of atheism as a speculation, or the 
gloominess of its tendency. There is no difficulty 
about the existence of an infinite and eternal God, that 
can be a greater difficulty than an infinite succession of 
finite causes. In the one there may be obscurity, but 
in the other there is palpable contradiction. Mortals 
cannot have existed from eternity. Nothing can have 
so existed which is capable of succession. There must 
have been a first man, and he must have had a maker — 
and the intelligence of that maker would seem the only 
rational conclusion, to those who unhesitatingly ascribe 
to intelligence, machines which cannot for a moment be 
compared with the complicated and delicate workman- 
ship of the human frame. And what a dreary scene is 
a universe bound in a fate which had no author, and 
which has no object. There is but melancholy in the 
sight of a well-constructed vessel, with all its bravery, 
afloat on the wide sea, tending to no port, and guided 



395 

by no pilot. The beauty of its form, and harmony of 
its parts, only serve by contrast to deepen the painfull- 
ness of marking its abandonment. The loveliness of 
nature can but wring the heart, if nature be only an 
orphan, with no Almighty Father to protect and bless. 
Well may we hope to find truth cheering, since of this 
great error the aspect is so dark and dismal. 

Others blend this fact with the admission of a God, 
an Almighty Creator, but not a God whose love is the 
same to all the rational beings whom the system brings 
into existence ; nay, to whom, while some are the 
objects of everlasting love, and predestination to endless 
glory, others are the objects of hatred and reprobation ; 
i. e. a God who is partly benevolent, and partly malig- 
nant. This is the original doctrine of Calvinism ; not 
Calvinism as now held by thousands, whose reverence 
for the scriptures, whose timid understandings, and 
whose kind feelings, have produced various humane 
modifications of their faith ; but of Calvinism as taught 
by the great founder of the sect himself, as held by the 
stern Presbyterians of Scotland in their Covenanting 
days, and as yet retained by a few unhesitating intel- 
lects. This system draws, from what we behold, the 
reasonable deduction of an intelligent author, and a 
contemplated object in creation ; but in making that 
author not wholly benevolent, in making that object 
not the good of all, but the eternal misery of some, it is 
liable to similar charges with atheism, though not in 
the same degree, of irrationality in its theory, and 
gloom in its tendency. The theory is irrational, for 
till a malignant contrivance has been shown, a contriv- 
ance for the production of misery, we are warranted to 



396 

believe that the Creator is wholly and purely benignant : 
and the tendency is gloomy, for if we are depressed by 
supposing the universe to exist for no designed object 
whatever, it would surely be a wretched thought, that 
one end of its existence was what is called the display 
of the divine glory, in the eternal torment of beings 
who are capable of restoration to holiness and happiness. 
Who would not deprecate every movement of the 
machine which brought us nearer to that fearful con- 
summation ? Who would not invoke, like Joshua, the 
sun to stay on Gibeon, and the moon on Ajalon, rather 
than their next ray should light an immortal soul down 
to the pit of infinite and endless anguish ? Who would 
not even postpone his own admission to an eternal 
heaven, if it were linked with the dismission of others 
to an eternal hell ? And who could, though safe him- 
self, love with all his heart and soul, his mind and 
strength, a being with whom this was part of the result, 
the designed and contemplated result, of his works, the 
end for which he made the world ? Not in such a com- 
bination can we contemplate with satisfaction, the 
connexion and mutual dependence of created being. 

It is the glory of our faith, to blend with this fact 
the deepest conviction of the universal love of the 
Creator. While reason and revelation teach us, that 
from the stars which glow in the heavens to the flowers 
which spring up at our feet, all hear the Lord, and are 
fulfilling the will of Jehovah ; that he forms the light, 
and creates darkness ; that all our ways, and all our 
hearts, are in his hands ; that in him we live, and 
move, and have our being; and that of him, and to 
him, and through him are all things; they also, and 



397 

with like clearness and emphasis, seem to us to teach, 
that his tender mercies are over all his works ; that he 
is love ; that we have all one Father, the God of the 
just and the unjust ; that he will be all in all, and the 
creation made free with the glorious liberty of his chil- 
dren. Here is a design worthy of the workmanship, 
and of its author. If we catechise nature, this is the 
response she makes ; and if we open Scripture, this is 
the text emblazoned on its page. All things lead us 
back to God, i. e. to infinite goodness. All things lead 
us forward to the accomplishment of his purpose, i. e. 
universal happiness. The means are adapted to this 
end, and the end is one which fills the benevolent mind 
with joy unspeakable. The whole scheme then appears 
most consistent to the reason, and is welcomed as most 
glorious to the heart. 

Let us learn, then, a lesson of humility and of grat- 
itude. Whatever we may possess of advantageous 
circumstance, of mental acquirement, or of moral 
qualities, be it thankfully ascribed to God. " What 
hast thou that thou didst not receive ? " Health is of 
his preservation ; friends of his raising up ; he opened 
the avenues through which knowledge has flowed in 
upon the understanding ; and his Providence conducted 
the discipline which has saved from vice, or trained to 
goodness. Have you heard the voice of nature, of 
human wisdom, of revelation ? They heard his ; and 
had his commission for that benignant agency. By 
him have all things which exist, and which have existed 
in past ages, been made to blend their influences upon 
your senses and mind for the production of what you 
are. Your language should ever be, "Bless the Lord, 



398 

O my soul, and forget not all his benefits. Bless the 
Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me praise his 
holy name." 

Learn also a lesson of caution. Of all the combi- 
nations in the universe, none is more fixed and certain 
than that of vice with misery, of virtue with felicity. 
There is no law of cause and effect more binding than 
what holds these together. Appearances may tell a 
different tale, but when they do, appearances are false. 
If the wicked be not punished in outward circumstan- 
ces, it follows not that he is not punished within ; that 
the trappings of his guilt do not hide a heart on which 
is already preying the worm that dies not, a bosom in 
which is already burning the fire which is not quenched. 
Or if he be too hardened here for the gnawings of con- 
science, and the flame of remorse, he cannot escape 
hereafter. Suffering feeds on sin, and must live and 
feast till the nutriment is exhausted. The creature 
must cease to hear the Creator, before iniquity can 
unite with blessedness. 

Finally, let our devotion be universal as the presence 
and influence of our God. Let it pervade our lives. 
It may be called forth by, but should never be restricted 
within, the boundaries of particular places, or particular 
hours. In the permanence of the feeling, and in its 
filial character, let it bear some relation to the constancy 
of his paternal love. To him who is always, and every 
where, doing good to all, the years of life, the ages of 
eternity, are not too long for grateful adoration. 



399 



PRAYER. 



O God, the Maker, Sovereign, and Father of the 
universe, Thou art present with us in all thy works, 
and may we trace and adore Thee in all thy dispensa- 
tions. All beings are of thy creation, and all events of 
thine appointment. Thy dominion is alike unbounded 
and benevolent. The mightiest are not above the con- 
trol of thy Providence, nor are the meanest beneath its 
care. Thou reignest, and let us therein rejoice. The 
immutability of thy throne is blessedness to our hearts, 
for thy mercy endure th forever. 

Dispose us so to study thy works and word, that we 
may know more and more of thy character, O Thou, 
whom to know is life eternal. By seeing Thee as 
Thou art, may we become increasingly like unto Thee, 
and be followers of God as dear children, and bear the 
moral image of our Father in heaven. 

Gratefully may we acknowledge the goodness and 
mercy which have followed us all our days. Hitherto 
hath the Lord helped us ; and Thou wilt never leave 
us nor forsake us. Faithfully may we strive to do thy 
will, and by the practice of righteousness fit ourselves 
for the enjoyment of happiness. Let us be continually 
praising Thee. May heaven and earth unite in the 
celebration of thy love. By all beings and through all 
ages may thy name be glorified. Amen. 



SERMON XXV. 



OJV WATCHFULNESS. 



1 Cor. x. 12. 
"let him who thinketh he standeth, take heed, lest he fall." 

The Apostle Paul had in view, in this stern advice, the 
miscalculations of ambition, and the transitoriness of 
human prosperity. Both ancient and contemporaneous 
history would, if we needed them to demonstrate the 
wisdom and truth of our text, furnish us with examples, 
in which selection would be the only difficulty. The 
foolish ambition which blinds so many mortals, seems to 
raise their fortune high, only to render their ruin more 
striking; and the world scarcely recovers from the 
shock occasioned by the fall of a throne, before a similar 
crash staggers it again. 

But it is not to the great ones of the world only that 
Paul addresses himself in the text ; it is not the peril- 
ous carelessness of the powerful, that his voice seeks to 
alarm. He speaks with a reference to more solid inter- 
ests, than those that are sought after in the world. To 
Christians, of all ranks, he speaks ; presumption and 
security, in relation to salvation, is what he blames ; 



401 

and to watchfulness he would arouse all his disciples, in 
order to strengthen those who waver, and to maintain 
in the good path him who has entered on it. 

Wavering Christians, faithful Christians, who com- 
pose this assembly, and all who have a greater or less 
inclination to that security, to that want of vigilance, 
which the Apostle threatens with a fall, to you I now 
address the exhortation that he addressed to the Corin- 
thians ; and to aid its sanctifying influence on your 
hearts, I propose to combat and refute the avowed or 
secret motives which nourish in your breasts this dan- 
gerous security. 

Oh, that I could convince you that the Christian 
cannot make progress, nor even stand firm, in the noble 
career of excellence, in which his divine Master calls 
him to tread in his steps, without following a plan of 
sustained and well-directed efforts, without taking those 
powerful arms which the Gospel presses us all to put on 
for the fight of faith ! — Merciful Lord ! produce in them> 
by thy spirit of truth, this salutary conviction ! Cause 
it to carry into the remainder of their lives fruits of 
humility and vigilance ! Amen. 

I may, I hope, suppose that you all regard the pre- 
sent life under the aspect familiar to the disciples of 
Jesus Christ, — the only true aspect; yes, and the only 
one that can ennoble man ; the only one that can com- 
fort the unhappy — as a time, I mean, to be employed 
by each of us, in order to give all the increase possible 
to the germs placed in our soul by the Creator ; as a 
kind of probation for a higher order of existence, in 
which our soul, emancipated from earthly thraldom, 
51 



402 

and united to a glorious body, shall incessantly approach 
to the eternal source of holiness and bliss. 

I regard it as equally certain, that, arrived at that 
state of moderate wisdom, in which you have no long- 
er to fight against habits purely criminal, you do not 
judge it necessary to subject yourselves to the yoke of 
a severe vigilance : that as probationers, confident and 
tranquil as to the issue of the trial, you think it super- 
fluous, whether in reference to faith or morals, to bind 
yourselves down to those precautions of a scrupulous 
piety, to those sacrifices of an austere wisdom, to those 
habits of religious prudence, to that constant watching 
of the conscience and the heart, to all the virtuous 
requirements, which, you say, may be necessary at the 
entrance on life, but which, in your case, would be 
only useless restraints and childish precision. You 
undertake to justify both your security and the neg- 
lects which are its consequences : let us see what is the 
strength of the motives which inspire you, and conse- 
quently to what degree this security is reasonable. 

You say, in the first place, that having consecrated 
a part of your youth to the study of religion, and hav- 
ing then strongly imbued your minds with the principles 
of Christianity, and the obligations of the Christian, 
you are authorised to think yourself sufficiently advan- 
ced, and to turn to other objects the attention and the 
solicitude which the work of your salvation obtained 
from you at that period of your life. In granting to 
you that your religious instruction, facilitated by good 
natural dispositions, superintended by watchful parents, 
has succeeded to the satisfaction of the Pastors who are 
charged with putting the seal on it, I am far from hav- 



403 

ing nothing to reply to you. Have you forgotten, with 
what energy those Pastors warned you, in the name of 
the Lord, of the imperfection of the study you had just 
terminated ? of the absolute necessity of considering it 
merely as an introduction to the knowledge of religion, 
in which it was easy, but indispensable, to grow in 
future by yourselves ? on the folly which there was on 
your part, in considering the privilege that the church 
granted you, otherwise than as an encouragement and 
an anticipated recompense for your future progress ? 

I allow that you have entered into the church, 
clothed with the robe of innocence, and bearing in the 
recesses of your heart the fear of the Eternal God. 
Have you forgotten, that at that early period of your 
life, the tempests of the passions did not rage ; the oppo- 
sition of present and distant interests, the conflicts of 
the desires of the heart and the rules of virtue, had not 
made themselves felt, as they did at a subsequent time ; 
in proportion as your connexions were multiplied, 
your desires increased ; as the imagination was develop- 
ed, as life, in a word, was unfolded, with its joys, its 
troubles, its illusions, its enchantments, its griefs ? 
The support which was then sufficient to sustain your 
virtue, is now a feeble aid against the perils that menace 
you : the rampart, behind which you might well think 
yourself in safety, will fall at the first shock of the ene- 
mies whose assaults you have now to repulse. And, 
besides, had you, at your entrance on your career, the 
security which now characterises you ? Did you find, in 
the stock of knowledge and piety which you had then 
acquired, the means of full assurance as to the perils which 
lay in your path ? No ; far were you then from being 



404 

confident and tranquil. Anxious, disquieted at the foot 
of the altar, you compared, with a secret alarm, the dif- 
ficulties of the task and the extent of your feebleness ; 
and so glorious appeared then the vocation that was 
given you in the name of Jesus Christ, that many of 
you would have refused it, had they not reckoned on 
their vigilance to triumph over their difficulties. Is the 
number of these difficulties since diminished ? Is their 
power less ? Have not the relations that you have form- 
ed, in becoming members of a family, of the church, of 
the state, multiplied both your duties and the chances of 
your failure ? Think of all the inconsiderate desires, of 
all the reprehensible inclinations, of all the blameable 
steps which are called forth each day, now by the agi- 
tations and now by the enjoyments of existence. Think 
of those perpetual changes of scene which take place on 
the theatre of life, of new duties and new trials, and you 
will acknowledge thathe is an imprudent man, who counts 
on the unaided strength of one day, to conquer again on 
the next ; and you will proclaim him rash, who thinks the 
shield of infancy impenetrable at subsequent periods. 

But, my brethren, what increase of strength will not 
these considerations acquire in your eyes, when, quit- 
ting the seducing supposition of a well-founded religious 
education, I advert to facts ; when I remind you, that 
in most cases your instruction was superficial, and, at the 
best, only commenced ; that considerations derived from 
health, settling in the world, travelling, perhaps of caprice, 
pre-occupied the fitting time for instruction, abridged its 
duration, or hindered its progress. I know not but 
there may have been something still more serious. Was 
not the food of eternal life, the will of God manifested 



405 

by his word, which your instructers endeavored to 
make you love, already opposed by affections or habits 
at variance with its purity? Was not its heavenly 
influence neutralised by examples, so much the more 
pernicious, as you were obliged to honor those who set 
them before you ? Perhaps your mind, already occu- 
pied with deceptive principles, prejudiced against Chris- 
tianity by profane raillery, received gospel truths only 
with coldness and distrust. Or your heart, already 
spoiled by low inclinations, was much less sensible of the 
beauty of Christian virtue, than repelled by its require- 
ments. Alas ! the Christians are few indeed who can 
flatter themselves that the opening of their moral life 
was not either incomplete, or hindered, or prejudiced 
by preceding influences. Behold, however, my brethren, 
the first foundation on which, reposing your security, 
you think your faith and your virtue sheltered from the 
perils which the world and your own heart will inces- 
santly raise up. The example, then, is useless to you 
of that king, who, gifted with wisdom at twenty years 
of age, sullied his life at a later period by disgraceful 
excesses, and tarnished the crown which had honored 
his youth. Before this lamentable monument of the 
frailty of human virtue, how can you think that 
an education in the elements of Christianity, and 
an admonition of the power of worldly seductions, 
will be a sufficient guard against their enchantments ? 
Ah, how do you, in reasoning thus, give room for sus- 
pecting that very instruction of which you make your 
boast ! It was in reality a small matter, that it showed 
you, in the miracles of nature, the supremely wise and 
good Being who displays therein his glory : it was a 



406 

small matter, that, in disclosing your noble destiny, 
it offered immortality to your ambition. It ought to 
have taught you, by how many efforts, by how many 
sacrifices, the Christian may obtain the high reward : 
it ought, by leading you to measure the extent of the 
career to be gone over, and the strength of the impedi- 
ments that lie therein at every step, to have led you 
also to adopt, to carry each day into execution, a plan 
deliberately formed on the principles of Christian watch- 
fulness : it ought, in fortifying you against the common 
error, which makes the science of salvation the object 
of youthful attention and the speculative study of a few 
years, to have led you to consider it as a work of time, 
of sustained efforts, of ceaseless practice ; a work which 
should be blended with the whole of existence ; which, 
beginning with the first glimmerings of reason, should 
be pursued, uninterruptedly, with an ever-increasing 
interest, till your last breath. These ought to have 
been the fruits of your religious education. Never, 
then, would it have infused into you the false security 
and want of vigilance that we now contend against. 

But a second motive gives you ease. You hope, 
from the mercy of God, that he will always spare you 
those perilous trials, over which an ordinary vigilance is 
not sufficient to triumph. On what, then, is your hope 
founded ? What circumstance occasions and supports 
it ? Perhaps what you call the natural mildness, the 
composure of your character ; the inactivity of your 
passions. Who thoroughly knows his character ? Who 
can be certain of having scrutinized all the folds of his 
heart ? It is a labyrinth, in which the ablest loses 
himself, and many of whose windings remain long 



407 

unknown. He who disdained in his youth the calcu- 
lations of interest, or the triumphs of ambition, is some- 
times found gradually to change his tastes and his plans, 
and to serve, at fourscore years, under the banners of 
fortune, and to burn a sordid incense on the altars of 
Mammon. 

" The inactivity of your passions tranquillizes you 
as to the possibility of their excesses." How do you 
know that you do not attribute to yourself what is pure- 
ly the effect of external circumstances ? if it is not the 
opportunity which has hitherto been wanting for the 
developement of a violent passion, and not the defects 
of the passion that took away the danger of the oppor- 
tunity ? 

"The little ardor of your sentiments — the little 
vivacity of your passions." But ought not that very 
thing — that disposition which gives you assurance — to 
awaken your fears, and call forth your solicitude ? Little 
susceptible to evil, are you not for that very reason cold 
and insensible to good ? Do you not place among your 
duties the conquest of that same inertness, that same 
easiness of character, against which the storm of temp- 
tation is commonly hushed ? Are you not under an 
obligation to correct that very want of elasticity and 
enthusiasm, which almost takes from you the liability 
to signal excesses ? 

Again. " You cannot even form a notion of the shame- 
ful torments of envy, and the other malignant passions." 
But is the prosperity of your neighbors an occasion 
with you of charitable joy, and would you be capable 
of making sacrifices to prevent their ruin ? And are 
your friendships deep ; is your patriotism energetic ; is 
your charity active, devoted, persevering, powerful ? 



408 

" You never run the risk of making shipwreck of 
your faith, by making common cause with the avowed 
enemies of the Gospel." But, believe as you do, and faith- 
ful as you are, have you courage enough to brave their 
scorn, and to repel with vigor their audacious attacks ? 

" The transitory possessions of earth do not exert 
an invincible empire over your heart." But do you seek 
first the kingdom of heaven and its righteousness ? Do 
you lay hold, as the Apostle enjoins, do you lay hold on 
eternal life, to which you are called ; or are you not 
rather strangers to those noble aspirings of a religious 
breast towards the happiness of heaven; aspirings, 
which of themselves prove that man was made to enjoy 
that happiness ? As true wisdom consists rather in 
directing, than destroying, the activity of the feelings ; 
as the Christian has performed only the half of his task, 
when he has thrown off the shameful yoke of vice, the 
vigilance which is so necessary as a preservative against 
the assaults of evil, is not less needed as an auxiliary in 
the progress on to perfection. If, then, your soul, as 
that of King David or the Apostle Peter, were suscep- 
tible of impetuous agitations and profound emotions, 
you ought undoubtedly to surround yourself with watch- 
fulness ; you ought to fear lest that susceptibility 
should prove a dangerous snare to you ; and lest, being 
in one instance seduced, you should disgrace, with sig- 
nal failures, that career, in which you were fitted by 
nature to gather a harvest of laurels : but since Provi- 
dence has given you a more placid temperament — a 
more orderly imagination — a character less alive to 
powerful feelings and sudden outbreaks, I must warn 
you to be vigilant. You must be so, in order to prevent 



409 

a permanent state of moral deadness ; worse, perhaps, 
than a short extravagance of avowed infidelity. Watch, 
lest the sacred fire becoming totally extinguished, your 
virtue, being purely negative, be unworthy of a disciple of 
Jesus Christ, and you remain disgracefully stationary 
on the road where each day ought to display your 
victories and your progress. 

But it may be that the easy and blind confidence in 
the goodness of God, of which you speak, proceeds 
from a circumstance altogether independent of character. 
"God," you say, "has till now preserved you from difficult 
temptations : why, then, should you take the trouble of 
watchfulness against trials which perhaps may never 
fall to your lot ? " Manifest error ! Rash confidence ! 
You are a man. In this fact there is abundant reason 
why the sword of temptation should ever impend over 
your head, and why the thread by which it hangs should 
at any instant break. Sickness may suddenly confine 
you to a bed of agony, and subject you to a long trial 
of patience. In a season of prosperity, ruin may sud- 
denly scatter your possessions, and subject you to a long 
trial of fortitude and resignation. Where are your titles 
to be exempted from the common law ? What reasons 
have you for flattering yourself with so vain a hope ? 
Has Opulence said to you in secret, " I will not raise thy 
house ; I will not tempt" thy pride ?" — Calumny : " I will 
spare thy name ?" — Discord : " I will not destroy thy 
dearest interests ; I will not tempt thy revenge ?" — 
Pleasure : " I will not tempt the concupiscence of thy 
heart ?" Wearisomeness — the frightful wearisomeness 
of existence : " I will not bedim thy eyes ; I will not 



410 

wither the charm of all about thee ; I will not tempt 
thy despair ?" 

Your present position, the nature of your associates, 
the state of your affairs, the obscure or distinguished 
rank that you hold in society, perhaps a thousand cir- 
cumstances, appear to you so many guarantees. Illu- 
sion, which arises from your limited foresight, and a to- 
tal forgetfulness of human vicissitudes ! Illusion, which 
experience quickly dissipates ! When the venerable 
Abraham for the first time pressed to his heart the child 
of promise, he had no reason then to expect the burnt- 
offering of mount Moriah. When the well-beloved son 
of Jacob passed his peaceful days in the tents of He- 
bron, he had no reason to foresee that he should have 
to guard his heart in Egypt against the threefold seduc- 
tion of revenge, ambition, and licentiousness. When 
Job lived happy in a virtuous opulence, amidst his fam- 
ily and his friends, he had no reason to foresee that a 
frightful storm was about to burst around his head, and 
to despoil him of all things. When the preachers of 
the Gospel, simple Galilean peasants, lived peacefully 
in the alternate discharge of their habitual labors and 
the requirements of the law, they had no reason to fore- 
see that it formed a part of the Saviour's plans to make 
them partakers in his sacrifice, and that they were soon 
to change their tranquifexistence for the tribulations of 
an Apostolic life, and to end it in martyrdom. After 
such examples, after proofs so striking of the sudden- 
ness with which trials fall on man, dare still to reckon 
on your character, on present or preceding circumstan- 
ces, for aid to look without perplexity on the fascinations 
of the hidden future ! After these oracles of experience, 



411 

which, under other names and other forms, are inces- 
santly and every where multiplied, dare still to nourish, 
under false ideas of the goodness of God, a security the 
danger and the folly of which these instances place in 
the fullest light ! 

But if we are to ascribe your security neither to an 
exaggerated idea of the results of your religious instruc- 
tion, nor to false notions of the Divine goodness, nor to 
the dispensations of Providence, it proceeds, perhaps, 
from some advantages that you have obtained over your 
passions. Trials, honorably sustained, make you regard 
vigilance as henceforth useless, and the precautions of 
piety as superfluous. Prove to us, my brethren, that 
the temptations which you have been able to resist 
may not appear again in a more dangerous form than 
at first ; that other temptations will not be presented 
to you ; that you did not owe your preceding victories 
to watchfulness, and I will promptly approve of your 
security. 

Let us enter into some details as to the nature of 
those struggles from which you have come off conquer- 
ors. Perhaps the enemy — this is the name by which 
the sacred writings designate the temptations that assail 
us — perhaps the enemy made his attack, openly, and 
face to face. Are you sure that you would equally re- 
pel him, if he came on you suddenly, or by winding 
paths ? You are ignorant, perhaps, that this lion is much 
more formidable when, clothed in sheep-skins, he be- 
gins with caresses ; or, when he winds as a serpent to- 
wards the prey, that he designs to pierce with death. 

But you assert that he employed various means for 
your subjugation. Are you, then, so mistaken as to 



412 

imagine that you are acquainted with all the forces that 
are at his disposal, and that "he called them all into ac- 
tion at the first attack ? To seduce us, to make us break 
the bond of obedience which binds us to our Creator, he 
calls to his aid curiosity, self-love, sensuality, pride ; he 
awakens all these passions at once. " Taste of the 
fruit," said the serpent to Eve, " you shall be as God, 
knowing good and evil." To harden the mind for 
transgression, he ventures on perfidious intimations, 
which exaggerate its sweets, while he takes especial 
care adroitly to disguise its bitterness. And the ser- 
pent adds, " Taste of the fruit, for you shall not die." 
To draw us into the abyss, he has the art to make the 
road agreeable, and leads us by long circuits, which he 
has strewn with flowers. To make the surer of his vic- 
tim, he labors to bewilder him ; he agitates his reason ; 
he fascinates his understanding ; he kindles his imagina- 
tion, by filling his mind with glittering illusions ; he 
presents them in every direction ; he peoples solitude 
with them ; he mingles them even with his dreams ; he 
makes not a decisive attack, until his forces are all con- 
centrated, and defeat is inevitable, perhaps desired. 
Against such an enemy, what must be the effect of se- 
curity ? 

You have resisted some temptations, and for that 
reason you think you may dispense with vigilance ! 
But because you have been unassailable on one point, 
are you at liberty to affirm, that, without precautions, 
without watchfulness, you will be equally so on every 
other ? If there exists, in general, a certain harmony 
amongst the different inclinations of the same man, it 
does not follow that the purity of one guarantees, with- 



413 

out exception, the purity of all the rest. How many fea- 
tures has the historian to reprove in men whom he offers 
to our admiration in other respects ! Do we not see the 
same person that is irreproachable in regard to probity, 
yield to the instigations of envy ? Do we not see the 
excesses of violence stand, in the same character, in con- 
trast with the effects of a touching humanity ; and ease 
degrade a heart, which reverses had not even sullied ? 
What, then, does your partial resistance prove, in rela- 
tion to temptations which are yet quite unknown to 
you, and against which nothing gives you, any more 
than others, a certain shelter ? If, at the most you are 
authorised to entertain hope, nothing can justify habit- 
ual security. In a word, if, in those perilous moments, 
the chief cause of your success was, that then you were 
on your guard, is there not reason to fear that you will 
fall when you have ceased to be vigilant ? Now, call to 
mind, whether, when you escaped the danger which 
threatened your innocence, you were not mainly indebt- 
ed to the Christian prudence, which made you wisely 
decline engaging in the conflict ? Call to mind, whether, 
on another occasion, when you refuse offers that were 
suspected, but which flattered your cupidity, you did 
not chiefly owe it to the fact that then you preserved the 
delicacy of your conscience by religious habits ? If, 
then, in such circumstances, you owed the victory to 
vigilance, is it not clear that in laying aside this means 
of strength and safety, you will be liable to defeats, 
which will be so much the less pardonable, as they are. 
in some sort, voluntary ? 

Besides, if you have sometimes had happy experi- 
ence of your strength, have you not acquired also a proof 



414 

of your weakness ; and is there not, in the remembrance 
of your numerous failures, facts to shake the security 
which your victories inspired ? Yet — strange and 
melancholy truth ! — those preceding errors, those failures 
in the past, which ought, more than anything, to make 
you humble and watchful, become, according to your 
assertions, become, under the imposing name of experi- 
ence, a sufficient preservative against every trial ! I do 
not exaggerate, my brethren. Ask that man, who was, 
for a long while, a gambler, why, when at last he is 
freed from his heavy chain, he still frequents the places 
where he may again fall under the yoke of that deplor- 
able habit. Ask this other, who was intemperate, why, 
when he has returned to less ignoble pleasures, he does 
not renounce everything that may renew his former 
tastes. Ask this female, who paid so dearly for her 
calumnies or her levity, why, after having acknowledg- 
ed her wrong-doings, she is not more prudent in her 
conduct, more serious in her conversation, more con- 
stant in her devotions. Ask, in fine, this young man, 
who made his entrance on life notorious by a signal fail- 
ure, why, when God has saved him, he holds his course 
beside the very rock which so nearly proved his ruin : 
and this young man, this woman, this gambler, and this 
drunkard, will reply, that their experience sufficiently 
fortifies them against temptation, and that their former 
errors constitute their future safety. What would you 
reply to them, my brethren, and what shall I reply to 
you yourselves, who are at least as imprudent ? We 
say to you, that by reflecting a little more attentively 
on the nature of your heart, and on the course of the 
passions which agitate it, you will not fail to acknow- 



415 

ledge, that, sooner or later, such conduct will be fatal : 
that if you are less than a novice, liable to suffer from 
surprise, you have to guard against a more formidable 
danger ; against the power of habit, which, as a magic 
chain, brings us insensibly back to the traces we have 
gone over, and makes us find in them an attraction, the 
more irresistible the longer we have trodden in them. 
I say to you again, that this law of habit is a common 
law, beyond whose operation you in vain pretend to 
be. Imprudent people ! How can you fail to see, that 
near that fire, where your heart burned with a flame 
which smoulders in it still, you every instant run the 
risk of kindling a spark, which will renew it in all its 
former fierceness ? In vain you allege, that the passion 
which for a long time tyrannised over you, is smothered, 
destroyed to its very root. The root of the passions 
dies only with ourselves, and of this you furnish a living 
proof. Endeavor to learn what you are in the pre- 
sence of temptation : notice if you are then tranquil ; 
if you detect no emotion which may betray the secret 
understanding which it maintains in your heart : see if 
you remove yourself from its presence without trouble, 
without effort ; if no resistance warns you that the mine 
is growing warm, and that, perhaps, on occasion of the 
next imprudent act, it will explode. 

Alas ! your want of vigilance alone deposes enough 
against you ! Yes, it is less the certainty of not yield- 
ing, than a remnant of inclination for that former habit, 
which makes you disdain those remedies, the effect of 
which is certain. If your conversion on this point was 
complete, no sacrifice would seem too great to secure 
the duration of it ; and far from failing, as you do, in 



416 

prudence, you would rather carry precaution to excess. 
Oh ! what ingratitude there is in this way of replying 
to the mercies of God ! In his compassion he resolved 
to bring you back to him : strong in the aid with which 
he furnished, you began to turn your steps to his 
testimonies ; you began to find that the yoke of the 
Lord is easy ; vigilance only was needed to complete 
your salvation ; but presumption is on the point of rob- 
bing you of the fruit of your former efforts. The only 
thing that remained for you to do is precisely that which 
you think superfluous. Vigilance would have saved, 
security is about to destroy you. Thinking that you 
stand, you take not heed, and you will relapse ; while 
your fall will give to others the lesson which has been 
in vain presented to yourself. 

Thus, then, the voice of our sacred books, stifled by 
false reasonings, will not reach, or not convince you. 
Vainly, then, has it, to excite us to vigilance, joined 
exhortations to parables, and strengthened the most 
explicit precepts by the most instructive examples. 
Vainly you see the Apostles prepare themselves for 
their labors by prayer and fasting— Paul, mortify his 
body and hold it in subjection— Jesus, flying from the 
crowd, to pray in solitude. In vain for you have our 
sacred books preserved the remembrance of the weak- 
nesses of good men, and revealed our own feebleness in 
the contrast of their virtues and their falls. What ! 
Eve, fallen from her original innocence — Moses, unsteady 
in his faith — David, driven from lust to adultery, from 
adultery to murder — Solomon, stifling, in the delirium 
of idolatry, the remorse which impurity had excited — 
Peter, thrice denying the Master for whom he vowed 



417 

to brave even death ; — shall all these examples, all 
these shipwrecks, be nothing but monuments without 
speech and without eloquence to you ? Nevertheless, 
to feel their force, there is needed neither a rare under- 
standing, nor a transcendent genius. You need but 
eyes, to read in them that the purest intentions, and 
even the liveliest piety, are not always a sufficient pre- 
servative against the seductions of sin ; that if the 
greatest saints have, when exposed to great perils, fur- 
nished trophies to the enemy of men's salvation, we, 
exposed perhaps to less perils, but much less strong to 
escape from them, ought to proportion our vigilance to 
the degree of our weakness and to the greatness of the 
dangers which it runs. You need but eyes, to read in 
them the peremptory refutation of the motives on which 
you base your security, and the formal presage of the 
failures and pains by which you will expiate them, 
sooner or later. 

"What shall I do to inherit eternal life?" Such 
was the question which the young ruler addressed to the 
Saviour. Such is the question we desire to be on your 
lips, while we oppose, step by step, your false security. 
I reply to the question by some suggestions. Are you 
now convinced of the necessity of vigilance, and will 
you for the future be more consistent with yourselves ? 
Invoke to your aid the support of Almighty God, as if 
you could of yourselves do nothing ; but labor and 
watch, as if you could, without him, do everything. 
Form a resolution to keep at a distance from every 
temptation that you have it in your power to avoid. 
There is more boasting than merit in thoughtlessly con- 
fronting a peril, to which no good end invites us ; and 
53 



418 

more than one rash person, who amused himself with 
danger, has mournfully verified this oracle, " He who 
loves danger, shall perish in danger." Be scrupulous 
in fulfilling small duties, and severe towards light faults. 
Say to yourselves, that an indulgence in this point, 
taking its source in a heart more alive to the inconve- 
niences of sin than to the fear of displeasing God, is, at 
the Christian tribunal, a blameable indulgence. Say to 
yourselves, that the neglect of delicate scruples leads 
to the neglect of those that are weightier, and that the 
path from weakness to vice is more slippery than is that 
from innocence to the first act of weakness. Call to 
mind, that there exists, in good as well as in evil, an 
insensible gradation ; that, in moral, as well as physical 
affairs, strength is developed by sustained exercise, and 
carry into the whole of your conduct that wise precau- 
tion of the Theban, who totally forbade himself any 
disguise whatever of truth, in the fear lest it might 
lose, in his estimation, any portion of its sacred 
character. 

Devote time to the study of your heart, and think 
the study of prime importance. It has its difficulties, 
but its results are too precious for any one to allow these 
difficulties to revolt him. Jf by the daily observation 
of your conduct, and the honest seeking of its internal 
prompters ; aided, besides, by the counsels of a true 
friend, and also benefiting, by the reproaches of your 
enemies, you succeed in acquiring that knowledge of 
yourselves which all wise men have coveted, what a gain 
will you have made for your growth in grace ! Thus 
placed within yourselves, as in the centre of a panoptic 
edifice, all whose parts are easily visible, no secret 



419 

movement will escape your notice ; you will seize at 
their birth, sentiments, which, if left unbridled, would 
become dangerous ; you will know what objects of 
temptation you ought to avoid ; be able to avoid them 
opportunely ; and the revolt of your passions, being 
thus always known in its origin, may always be pre- 
vented. 

Take, as an auxiliary in this study of yourselves, the 
habit of retirement. In the world, drawn on by our 
interest, or captivated by those about us, we incessantly 
escape from ourselves ; our sentiments and passions are 
almost constantly in play, whilst our divided attention 
is unable to follow their rapid and always complicated 
movements. But in the calm of that meditation to 
which solitude is favorable, we meet again with impor- 
tant impressions, and our heart, if we question it, seems 
to take a pleasure in showing us openly the wounds it 
has received, or the wishes it has dared to form. 

Above all, take as an auxiliary, in this valuable study, 
the habit of reading the Bible. This book, unique in 
the excellence of its authority, by reminding you of 
what you ought to be, and compelling you to acknow- 
ledge what you really are, will prevent those illusions 
as to the nature of your duty, which arise so easily, and 
combat your many indulgences as to the manner of dis- 
charging it. This book, in never showing you your 
duty except as resting on ample foundations and sur- 
rounded by the most powerful motives, will infuse into 
you more love for virtue and more strength to become 
virtuous. Not, doubtless, if you read it with the view 
of finding there support for a certain speculative system, 
or arms to combat the opposite system ; not, if you 



• 420 

search it with that spirit of vain curiosity, which is 
scarcely permitted in ordinary reading; — but if you 
read it full of a desire for spiritual instruction ; with 
simplicity of heart, giving yourselves up to the personal 
reflections which it will suggest, and, in the words of 
the excellent Fenelon, " allowing the sentiments which 
it may have awakened to fall upon your soul." 

Lastly, do not regard salvation as a separate labor, 
for which a special time is set apart ; a time that may 
never come, or come too late. Salvation — what is it, 
but your moral progression, the melioration of your 
character, the acquisition of all the virtues of which 
Jesus Christ has given us the model ; what is it, but 
the developement in our souls of every pure, noble and 
divine sentiment? It is, then, the labor of every day, 
and of every instant of every day. You must learn to 
combine the progress of this noble task with all your 
occupations ; you must blend the thought of it with all 
the aspects of your being, that it may never leave you — 
that it may meet you as you enter your abode — 
in the engagements of business — in your plans for the 
future— in your designs for your children — in your 
troubles and your joys — in your reverses and your suc- 
cesses. Men of study, let it ennoble and sanctify your 
labors ! Husbands, fathers and mothers, let it conse- 
crate your domestic relations ! Children of affliction, 
let it sustain your fortitude in the midst of your present 
trials ! Children of labor, let it elevate in your sight the 
obscurity of your situation ! Citizens, let it ennoble your 
political career ! Christians, my friends and brethren, 
let it give a special interest to all the concerns of health, 
fortune, affliction, joy, the varied succession of which 



421 

compose the tissue of life ! Youth, let this thought Of 
salvation — of a moral and eternal inheritance, make your 
hearts beat nobly ! Age, let it still support, under the 
frosts of your wintry season, the energy of your facul- 
ties and the vigor of a soul for which the gates of heaven 
are about to open ! 

Great God, Father of mercies, grant, in thy super- 
abounding grace, that they may one day open for all 
thy children that are assembled here ! Amen. 



PRAYER. 

O Thou, who hast placed us on the earth to labor 
here during a space of years for our moral advancement 
and eternal happiness ; Almighty God, who hast prom- 
ised thy aid to those who sincerely ask it ; vouchsafe 
to cast on us, thy children, thy propitious, benign and 
sanctifying regards. And, O, vouchsafe to bless the re- 
ligious exercise which has brought us in union around 
thy mercy-seat ; vouchsafe to support and fertilize in us 
the Christian disposition, which brings us hither, to read 
and meditate on thy holy word. Make us understand, 
make us strongly feel, the things which that word con- 
tains for our peace and true happiness. In mercy cause 
thy word to dissipate the dangerous illusions, by which 
pride and indolence delay our steps in the holy race 
which thy Son invites us to run. Let it stimulate our 
vigilance ; let it strengthen our courage ; let it repress 
our presumption ; let it enlighten us as to the greatness 
and the difficulties of the task allotted to thy servants ; 
let it point us to the aids we need to accomplish the 



422 

work ; and let it form in us the unshaken resolution to 
make the future a scene of continual triumph. Finally, 
let it kindle our souls, in fixing our eyes on the cloud of 
witnesses by which we are surrounded, and on the im- 
mortal crown which will encircle the head of success- 
ful combatants. 

O God ! whose name is never called upon in vain, 
hear and answer our prayers. We ask it through the 
Son of thy love, our Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen. 



SERMON XXVI. 



THOUGHTFULJVESS IJV THE HOUSE OF GOD. 



Ecclesiastes, v. 1. 

"when you enter into the house of god, reflect whither you 
direct your steps, and draw near to listen, rather than to 
offer the sacrifice of fools ; for they know not the evil 
which they do." 



" Go ye, and teach all nations." Such was the last 
command of Jesus, when on the point of ascending into 
heaven. His obedient Apostles immediately go forth to 
enlighten the world : they preach, they make converts, 
found churches, establish a religion. Soon does Chris- 
tianity spread itself far and wide. Wherever it reaches, 
houses of prayer are opened ; every where they offer 
an asylum to the unfortunate, information to the igno- 
rant ; and from one end of the world to the other, the 
Father of mercies makes himself known to the disciples 
of his Son. The benefit is measureless, entire, univer- 
sal. What return do we make, my brethren ? I do not 
ask, if you come to the house of God every time that 
you ought, or might ; but do you always approach it 
with the respect, the attention, the thoughtfulness, that 



424 

this august act requires ? I do not, my brethren, fear 
to be accused of exaggeration if I reply, that thought- 
fulness in the house of God is among the rarest of reli- 
gious habits. Almost every one goes into the holy 
place with a mind fully agitated by the affairs or vani- 
ties of the world. Hearers take their place, sing the 
divine praises, join in the prayers of the minister, almost 
without thinking of what they do. If at the first mo- 
ment the voice of the preacher seems to arouse their 
attention, soon do distractions, more or less, involun- 
tarily intervene to counteract it ; their efforts to dis- 
miss them are feeble or insufficient ; ordinarily they 
leave the temple without having acquired one exact 
idea, formed a positive resolution ; and suddenly the 
distractions which wait for them at the door— conversa- 
tions, pleasures, business — complete the erasure of the 
feeble impressions that they had received. Such is the 
service they offer to the Lord ! 

My brethren, I fear I must say, that this is precisely 
what our text designates by the severe expression, " the 
sacrifice of fools." I fear, that, by want of reflection, 
by thoughtlessness, we thus do ourselves a real and 
serious injury. To encourage you to conquer this fatal 
habit, we propose to set its consequences before you : 
we will then show you that it would be easy and plea- 
sant to triumph over it. For this once at least, lend, 
my brethren, some attention to those reflections, which, 
though simple and unpretending, are of high impor- 
tance, and may, as we presume to think, be eminently 
useful to you. 

" They understand not the evil which they do," 
says the Preacher ; it is therefore necessary to lead 



425 

them to form an idea of it. Now, with the first look 
that I cast on the consequences of this habitual distrac- 
tion in the house of God, I see a great good lost, bane- 
ful effects produced, a serious fault committed. Whence 
does it happen, my brethren, that public worship, that 
beautiful and salutary institution, has amongst us re- 
sults evidently disproportionate to the means that are 
employed ? If it produced the effects that it ought to 
produce, we should see religious ignorance disappear. 
All those who habitually frequent the sanctuary, would 
not have solely those vague and often false notions 
of religion that are too frequent amongst Christians of 
these days, but clear and accurate ideas ; they would 
no longer so commonly contract those strange illusions, 
those loose opinions, with which, to the shame of the 
Church, so many persons deceive themselves. If public 
worship produced the effects which it ought to produce, 
it would have on each of us a direct and powerful influ- 
ence. By periodically removing you, my dear brethren, 
from the cares of the world, it would combat your 
levity ; it would call to your mind, often and powerfully, 
those grand thoughts of a God — a judgment — of redemp- 
tion — of immortality : it would, in some sort, compel you 
to reflect, in spite of yourselves ; it would, at intervals, 
dissipate that poisoned atmosphere of the world, which 
enervates our souls, and renders them incapable of serious 
and energetic thoughts. It would enfeeble your pas- 
sions ; to their seducing attractions, it would oppose a 
force not less powerful, and defend against them your 
principles and your virtues ; by placing before your eyes 
the holy truth of the Gospel, with the fears, the hopes, 
the salutary emotions that are its companions, it w r ould 
54 



426 

render all the efforts of the enemies of our salvation 
nugatory. In misfortune, it would offer us consolation ; 
in prosperity, it would prevent moral blindness ; in dis- 
quietude, it would restore peace to our souls ; in temp- 
tation, it would give strength ; in discouragement, it 
would give energy ; in passion, composure. In a word, 
in all the positions of life it would be a support, an aid, 
a guide to remind us of duty, to lead us from vice to 
supply us with hope and happiness. Such would be the 
natural effects of an institution, so benign, so eminent- 
ly popular, so well suited to the wants of all ranks, of 
all ages, of all conditions. Such are the effects which 
it produced in the primitive church ; in every age, in the 
souls of single-minded and pious Christians, who brought 
to its exercises congenial emotions ; which it still pro- 
duces in some retired places, where, far from cities, the 
simplicity of ancient manners and the fervor of a primi- 
tive peity are preserved ; which it produces even 
amongst us, in the very small number of persons who 
go into the temple with a collected mind. But if, in 
our time, it is in general far from producing these 
effects, where must we look for the cause ? have we not 
to blame our want of thoughtfulness ? How can wor- 
ship be useful to minds full of distractions and incapable 
of a profound impression ? Attention is necessary in 
order to comprehend, to be moved, to be swayed. 
Attention is necessary to make the words that strike 
the ear go to the heart and become thoughts. Atten- 
tion is necessary to feel the force of a train of reason- 
ing, and the full meaning of a truth. What hold can 
worship have on a man whose mind is pre-engaged ; to 
whom the prayers of the pulpit are nothing but lifeless 



427 

and monotonous sounds ; who never thinks of applying 
what he hears to his own coudition ; who has only con- 
fused thoughts and vague ideas ; and whose indolent 
imagination is, turn by turn, occupied by a thousand 
different phantoms, which succeed each other as chance 
directs. No, it has none, or scarcely none ; it has daily 
less, and will quickly lose all its influence. In reality 
observe, that if we have the power of acquiring the 
habit of attention, we acquire also, and much more 
easily, that of mental dissipation ; if, on the return of 
the same circumstances, we again yield ourselves to 
their influence, soon will the same ideas bring constant- 
ly the same disposition ; soon, by occasionally indulging 
in distractions in the holy place, will the habit be form- 
ed, the evil perpetuated ; and that worship, which might 
have elevated our soul, expanded our heart, strengthen- 
ed our virtues, imparted to us pleasurable sensations, 
and filled us with salutary emotions, that worship, the 
source of so much gratification, so many blessings, is 
lost to us. 

This is not all, my brethren : this fatal habit entails 
a multitude of disastrous effects. You cannot, in the 
first place, attend, with distraction of mind, on divine 
service, but you soon grow weary of it. There is no 
medium : if it is not a pleasure, it is wearisomeness to 
you. If it is not useful, it is hurtful. If it brings you 
not near to God, it removes you at a distance from him* 
There is in our nature a constant and invincible repug- 
nance to vague and confused ideas. Those prayers, 
that preaching, which are to us a continual source of 
new distractions, which leave no definite impression, no 
consecutive idea, from which we depart with the dis- 



428 

agreeable feeling of having gathered no fruit, of having 
lost an hour ; these prayers, this preaching, are nothing 
but a tedious time of idleness and constraint. The 
charm and the utility of worship once destroyed, the 
slightest inconveniences to which it may expose us have 
the force of powerful reasons to keep us from the tem- 
ple ; our heart is in a secret understanding with diffi- 
culties, and the inclemency of the seasons, the weather, 
distance, business, the least embarrassment, every- 
thing immediately becomes to us an insurmountable ob- 
stacle ; we abandon the house of God, or if we still go 
thither, we go no longer as teachable auditors, but as 
spectators, with absent minds, whose imagination has to 
be aroused, whose taste flattered, whose curiosity stimu- 
lated, who will judge, criticise what is to them only a 
subject of fatigue and wearisomeness. Perhaps the 
averson felt towards worship will soon extend itself to 
the idea of religion. Even in our home, a prayer, a 
reading of a pious nature, will recal the impressions 
which these things are wont to excite on other occa- 
sions. Here, then, we are alienated from religion, with 
a languishing faith, a dead piety, thrown incessantly 
into the destractions of the world by that very worship, 
those very thoughts, that ought to snatch us from 
them. 

Still more, This habit is a serious fault. Do not 
speak to me, in opposition, of the weakness of human 
nature, and the difficulties of sustaining the attention 
for a length of time. This difficulty, I know, exists to 
a degree, which varies according to the health, the age, 
the strength and culture of mind in each individual. 
Nor do I intend to blame those Christians who, notwith- 



429 

standing their zeal are tormented with importunate dis- 
tractions that they would gladly dismiss. Such persons 
are the first to accuse themselves, try to combat the 
habit, and thus prove that, in their case, the intention, is 
at least, right. But those who deserve blame, are they 
who acquit themselves ; those who, with more strength, 
have less thoughtfulness, and while they really commit a 
serious fault, fancy they transgress slightly, if at all. 
What ! is it a slight fault calmly to lose one of the 
greatest benefits of the Christian's God ? To come and 
seek the presence of the Deity, without thinking of him ? 
To judge soundly of the matter, Christians, let us 
endeavor for a moment to forget ourselves, and to con- 
sider it as if it involved no question relating to our own 
condition. 

God the Sovereign of the world, the Creator of 
heaven and earth, the Eternal Spirit vouchsafes to draw 
near to man ; to render himself in some way sensible to 
him. He invites him, calls him into those temples, 
where he dwells in an especial manner. There this 
august monarch deigns to give his creatures audience; 
to hear their prayers ; to answer them by speaking to 
their hearts. In return, man, the feeble and sinful crea- 
ture man — man, a worm of the earth, an imperceptible 
atom, called before his God, brings with him — what ? 
indifference, mental distraction, indolence. He appears 
in his presence, and sees him not, hears him not, thinks 
not of him, has nothing to say to him. 

God condescends to establish worship, in order to 
dispense to his children the light, the courage, the con- 
solations which they need ; to oppose a source, fertile in 
virtue and strength, to the cause of corruption and evil, 



430 

to the influence of which they are subject. In return 3 
man allows these benefits to perish by negligence ; 
attaches no value to them ; sees in them only a burden, 
which he is impatient to throw off. This, Christians, 
is the conduct of the persons whom we accuse. Will 
you yet dare to deny that this irreverence towards God 
is a serious fault ? Will you regard as a trifling wrong, 
this contempt for one of the noblest gifts he has made 
to the world ? 

Alas ! in former times, men saw fervid and intrepid 
Christians enjoy the delight of worship ; meet together, 
at the peril of their lives, in the shades of night — in the 
subterraneous abodes of silence and death ; and often 
quit them only to pay with their blood for the heavenly 
emotions which they had there experienced. Yes ; the 
ancestors of many of us abandoned their country, and, 
in spite of threats and perils, exchanged with transport 
their abundance for wretchedness, happy, at this ex- 
pense, to find a temple and altars for their worship. 
Even still you may see those pious children of the des- 
ert, who are reduced to invoke the God of the gospel in 
the bed of torrents. You may see them, under the 
vault of heaven, when they are spoken to of our coun- 
try, of our temples, of the number of our religious ex- 
ercises, you may see them tremble with joy at the very 
name of Geneva, bless as an Eden this happy country, 
where every day the courts of the Lord are opened to 
believers ; you may see them form the notion that our 
temples are constantly filled with a pious and thought- 
ful crowd, sigh for our festivals, and ask of God, as a 
ravishing joy, to be permitted for once to witness the 
solemnity of our fasts. And we, — alas, for our ingrati- 



431 

tude ! — we find no pleasure in them ; yield them no at- 
tention ; we allow that worship to lose in our hands all 
its power and delight ; and yet would see in ourcouduct 
only a slight fault, and an excusable weakness. My 
brethren, 1 fear not to say it, and your conscience will 
say it too, distraction of mind in the house of God is a 
guilty habit ; a disastrous habit ; it is an " evil," and a 
great "evil;" it is, as our text says, "the sacrifice of 
fools." 

Being such, my brethren, why do we delay to follow 
the order of the Preacher, "reflect whither you direct 
your steps, and draw near to listen ? " 

But, I see your reason. This effort appears difficult, 
even impossible : habit, and the coldness that results, 
seem an almost insurmountable obstacle to the return of 
thoughtfulness and attention. Were it so, my brethren, 
would this be a reason for not struggling against them ? 
Because it is difficult not to commit serious faults, is 
this a reason for allowing them without scruple ? If 
thoughtfulness is a duty, are you not bound to prevent 
the contrary habit of mind, if it is not yet formed ; to 
oppose it, if contracted ? And, even if success did not 
depend on yourselves, are not, at least, the wish and cor- 
responding efforts imperiously required ? But I go 
further. Although there are real difficulties in this 
undertaking, at least for most men, yet, I am convinc- 
ed, that with a strong exercise of will, with care and 
precaution, all may, more or less succeed ; all will, in a 
little time, be recompensed for their trouble, hy the 
charms which worship will acquire in their sight ; and 
that same coldness, which results from distraction of 
mind, and makes you incapable of thoughtfulness, will, 



432 

when combatted by though tfulness, soon yield its place 
to the love of religious engagements. 

If then, my Christian brother, if you had a power- 
ful desire to bring attention to the service of the temple; 
if you looked on it as a great evil, to yield yourself, at 
this hour, to ordinary thoughts, would you find no 
means of acquiring more concentration of mind ? 
Doubtless, you would prepare yourself before for the 
impressions that you were about to receive. Whilst yet 
in your home, the sound of " the church-going bell," 
bringing to your ears the paternal invitations of your 
God, would make you think on what you were about to 
do ; in quitting your house, you would prescribe to your- 
self a law, to adjourn all thoughts of the world and the 
cares of earth ; the approach to the holy place would 
aid your efforts, and soon you would succeed in entering 
its precincts with nothing but a sentiment of respect and 
piety : — with these precautions, by reflecting whither 
you were " directing your steps," it would be more easy 
afterwards to " draw near to listen." To continue : 
you enter the temple ; think on what you do. Say, as 
Jacob, " God is in this place, and I knew it not ; how 
fearful is this place : this is none other but the house 
of God ; this is the gate of heaven." Think of the 
sacredness of these ancient temples, which, amidst the 
convulsions of society and the succession of opinions, 
preserve pure the august depository of the faith ; which 
always open to virtue, to repentance and misfortune, 
offer them always the same blessings, and the same asy- 
lum : these temples, where the eternal God vouchsafes 
to dwell, where, from age to age, he hears the petitions, 
and consoles the miseries, of unfortunate mortals. These 



433 

thoughts will raise your soul, scatter the phantoms of 
the world, and the noises of earth. After having taken 
your place, humble yourself before God. Let it not 
be a vain observance of an external form : pray to him ; 
pray to him from the depth of your heart, to aid you to 
combat importunate distractions, and avoid inviting 
them by ill-timed conversations, or permitting'your eyes 
to wander in quest of objects which may call you back 
to earth. Listen, rather, to that word which is read 
from the pulpit ; that neglected, forgotten word, yet so 
important, so august ; that word, the foundation of our 
faith, the rule of our conduct, which, with as much pow- 
er as authority, will constrain us to enter into our own 
hearts. The service begins — in this moment, especial- 
ly, it is important to make an effort for self-command. 
The Monarch of the universe admits you to his pres- 
ence — you are in the midst of his court, at the foot of 
his throne — his eyes are fixed on you — he listens to your 
voice. Let your heart speak to him, and hear his reply. 
Struggle against your levity of disposition — strive for 
self-possession. If any distraction takes you by surprise, 
let a deep feeling of regret be your punishment — let 
your promptitude to banish it expiate the fault. 

Struggle, my brethren, still struggle, and you will 
be conquerors ; yes, infallibly. Every time the labor 
will be less, and the success greater. Soon, as the 
reward of your attention, you will be astonished to find 
new attractions in the worship of God. Besides the 
satisfaction which w r e always feel in consecutive engage- 
ments, in forming distinct ideas, in doing what we do 
with care, you will with surprise discover interest, utility, 
I had almost said novelty, in a multitude of details, 
55 



434 

which, in your former disposition, would have appeared 
low and insignificant ; you will find in the prayers of 
the church an unction, a majesty which will strike the 
heart ; in the preaching of the word you will find useful 
details, affecting truths, heavenly consolations, because 
you will then think less of judging, than applying 
what you hear. Such is the experience of all who have 
made the trial. By changing your disposition, you will 
change every other thing. The impressions you receive 
will be wholly new ; and with astonishment you will 
feel the love of religious things, and the fervor of piety, 
spring up in your hearts. The service is finished — 
you leave the sanctuary, but you are not at the end of 
your task. O, do not go and efface forthwith, in the 
midst of the world, the salutary impressions you have 
just received ! Foster them, on the contrary, by some 
moments of retirement and reflection ; labor by every 
means to corroborate their influence in your heart. 
Perhaps you find at the door of the temple relatives, 
friends : you accost them, converse with them : why 
should you not speak together of the things you have 
just heard ? You could not be accused of affectation. 
In the actual circumstances, at that moment, no subject 
of conversation so naturally offers itself. Why should 
you not reflect together on what the minister of Christ 
has said — not to criticise, not to praise— but to profit ; 
to give additional force to an useful admonition ; to form 
a salutary resolution ; to deepen in your hearts that 
with which they have been touched ? Ah, my breth- 
ren, if such were our conduct, if we had thus prepared 
our souls, if we thus improved the service, what happy 
effects would result ! Then, drawn to the house of God 



435 

by a real and constantly reviving attraction, we should 
no longer be kept away, as often now, by contemptible 
impediments, and nothing would be allowed to deprive 
us of the happiness of going thither. Then, we should 
always carry back a true satisfaction and holy resolu- 
tions. Then, going on from faith to faith, from virtue 
to virtue, we should experience all the pleasures of a 
growth in excellence and piety. Then, men would see 
amongst us the Lord honored, his servants docile ; the 
word, preached with more zeal, would thus regain all 
its efficacy ; and those temples, the august sanctuary of 
the Divinity, the refuge of the unfortunate, the source 
of abundant blessings ; those temples, constantly filled 
with an attentive and faithful multitude, would be truly 
"the gates of heaven." 

Let us then, Christians, let us then be profoundly pene- 
trated with the sin and the folly of our habitual levity — 
with the charms of thoughtfulness and of fervor. Above 
all, let us think of the majesty of the holy place, of the 
grandeur of God whose house it is, of the reverence 
which his presence requires. Let the sight of the sanc- 
tuary always inspire us with pious emotions and reli- 
gious awe. 

When Moses was wandering in the desert of Midian, 
he saw an extraordinary sight, which astonished his 
mind and attracted his steps. Forthwith, from the 
midst of the burning bush, a voice was heard — " Put 
off thy shoes, for the place where thou standest is holy 
ground. I am the God of thy father." My brethren, 
this is the holy and solemn place which you are not 
permitted to approach without preparation and reve- 
rence. Here, to us, the God of our fathers manifests 



436 

himself ; God our protector, who has so many times deli- 
vered us with an outstretched arm, as he did the children 
of Israel. From this place you ought to hear the voice, 
" Put aside your distractions and your cares ; put aside 
all that calls you to the earth, for the place where you 
stand is holy ground." Let these words echo in our 
ears every time that we enter within these walls ; dur- 
ing the time that we are here ; at the moment we leave, 
" This is holy ground ! " Let these words be a guard 
to our souls ; let them hold our thoughts captive, and 
bring them all to the obedience of God, who resides in 
the sanctuary. O that, disembarrassed from those 
fleshly coverings, we could for a moment separate our- 
selves from the objects of our senses, to contemplate the 
august truths that faith discloses ; that, as Jacob, we 
could see the throne of God above — his eyes fixed on 
each of us — his angels ascending and descending — and 
the majesty of his presence filling this place ! O 
Father, Father! seated between the Cherubim, who 
wast, and art, and art to come ; powerful and majestic 
Being, who fillest the universe, and yet deignest to 
dwell with man ; God and Father of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, raise our thoughts ; rouse, captivate our imagina- 
tion ; cause, as to Moses of old, cause thy glory to pass 
before us, and ever fill us, in this thy house, with reve- 
rence, attention and faith ! 



PRAYER. 

O God ! who hast surrounded us with temptations to 
conquer, and trials to support ; we come and bow toge- 



437 

mcr at the footstool of thy throne, to ask of thee, for 
ourselves and our brethren, strength to accomplish our 
task. We are but weakness and sin ; but Thou offerest 
thy strength ; Thou sustainest us by thy spirit ; Thou 
tracest out our path, and thou aidest us to walk therein. 
Let us, O Lord, never forget to seek true aid where 
only it is found ; and let us concentrate all our strength, 
to obey and follow thee. Reanimate within us that lan- 
guishing strength ; fill us with energy, with rectitude, 
with faith. Let us, in the midst of troubles, look to 
Thee ; let us, in the uncertainties of the present life, 
think on the life eternal ; and let us fear, more than the 
anxieties and troubles of the world, the least disobedi- 
ence to duty and thy will. O that we could avoid 
offending Thee ; that we might be thy children ; that 
our heart afforded us the grateful assurance that we 
love Thee, and that we walk in sincerity before Thee ! 
Grant us this favor, Lord, and be our Father : grant 
it to all our relatives ; to all the followers of thy Son. 
Hear the prayers that we love to offer Thee on behalf 
of others. Ever direct thy church, and bless our country. 
Comfort those who suffer, and increase their strength 
and their faith. Be ever near to those who call upon 
Thee ; turn sinners from the error of their ways. 
O hear us, Gracious Father ! We beg it in confidence, 
through Jesus Christ 



SERMON XXVII. 



THE IMPORT AND A P P L I C AT I JV OF GLORIFY- 
ING GOD THROUGH JESUS CHRIST. 



1 Peter iv. 11. 



"that god in all things may be glorified THROUGH JESUS 

CHRIST; TO WHOM BE PRAISE AND DOMINION FOR EVER AND EVER; 

AMEN. 



It is one great excellence of the Gospel, that it con- 
tains motives adapted to every period of the moral and 
religious progress, and to every circumstance and con- 
dition of life. Among the systems of the ancient phi- 
losophers, there was no one possessed of this excellence. 
Some, as the Epicurians, took virtue at its commence- 
ment, and directed the attention to views, which are 
of real importance to lead the young and inexperienced 
to the right path ; but there they stopped : their doc- 
trines were calculated to hinder the progress of virtue ; 
to fix the mind on those motives which are valuable 
only when subordinate ; and to prevent all the elevated, 
refined, and disinterested features in which it some- 
times presents itself. Others, as the Stoics, contemplated 
virtue only at its higher elevations ; and though their 
moral system was much better fitted than the former, 



439 

to produce and cherish some of the most dignified dis- 
positions, yet it was too refined and elevated for the 
great bulk of mankind, and left out of view all those 
steps, by which the heights on which they themselves 
stood were to be attained. I need scarcely add, that 
among none existed those grand and comprehensive 
views of the character and dispensations of God, which 
are so effectual to guide the footsteps in the way of 
duty, and to animate and purify the heart. 

In the Gospel, the unspeakable gift of God, we have 
all these. We have the most plaitf and salutary direc- 
tions for our conduct and dispositions, in all the circum- 
stances of life, and in every branch of duty ; and we 
are supplied with various motives, fitted to alarm the 
sinner and reclaim him from the path of destruction, to 
strengthen the bruised reed, to fan the smoking flax, to 
support the wavering heart, to edify those who have 
sincerely chosen God and Christ for their portion, and 
to lead them on in those paths which shine more and 
more unto the perfect day. 

It is an exalted and ennobling motive which is held 
out to us by the Apostle in my text. He who feels 
and habitually acts upon it, is a Christian in deed and 
in truth ; and in proportion as any one makes the spirit 
of it the principle and guide of his heart and life, must 
he be regarded as the disciple of Him, whose meat it was 
to do the will of the great Being who sent him, and to 
finish his work. 

In discoursing from these words, I shall first endea- 
vor to explain their import; and secondly, to show 
their application. 

I. Respecting the import of the expression " That 
God may in all things be glorified," — 



440 

It is clear that the essential glory and excellence of 
the divine perfections, cannot be affected by anything 
that can be done, or by any tribute which can be offered, 
by the highest created intelligences : " His glorious 
name is exalted above all blessing and praise."* But 
the glory of God, as alone it can be affected by his 
creatures, consists in the homage and service which 
they render him, and in the manifestation of his glorious 
perfections and the accomplishment of the great ends 
of his moral administration — the virtue and happiness 
of his intelligent offspring. 

In the Scriptures, the word "glorify " is often used 
in reference to God ; and the force of it may be easily 
perceived by considering a few of the instances in which 
it is employed. It frequently denotes express acts of 
religious homage, praise, and worship. " Whoso offer- 
eth praise, glorifieth me."f And so in the 86th Psalm, 
"All nations whom thou hast made, shall come and 
worship before Thee, and shall glorify thy name ; for 
Thou art great and doest wondrous things ; Thou art 
God alone." And in like manner we read in the Gospel, 
that those who saw the wonderful displays of divine 
power manifested in the miracles of Christ, " glorified 
the God of Israel," — expressed their admiring praise of 
Him by whose power they were wrought. 

The expression is also used in many important pas- 
sages, somewhat more generally, to denote, not merely 
direct acts of religious worship, but also the homage of 
the heart and the life. In this sense it is used, where 
our Saviour says, in his sermon on the Mount, " Let your 

* Neh. ix. 5. t Psalm I. 23, 



441 

light so shine before men, that they may see your good 
works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven." " The 
God in whose hand thy breath is, and whose are all thy 
ways, hast thou not glorified," was part of the serious 
charge of the Prophet against the impious Belshazzar. 
" Ye are bought with a price," says the Apostle Paul,* 
" therefore glorify God in your body and in your spirit, 
which are God's : " a passage which may be regarded as 
closely corresponding with his noble exhortation,! "I 
beseech you, therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, 
that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, 
acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service." 
And there is one other connected meaning of the 
expression. In the Gospel of St. John it occurs in 
several passages, with' a particular reference to the dis- 
plays of the divine perfections in the Christian dispensa- 
tion, and the accomplishment of the great and glorious 
ends for which Christ was sent into the world. This is 
clearly the case in that interesting scene which took 
place in the Temple, a few days before our Lord's cru- 
cifixion, when, after referring to those sufferings through 
which he was to fulfil the purposes of his heavenly 
Father, he said, " Now is my soul troubled, and what 
shall I say ? Father, save me from this hour ? But for 
this cause came I unto this hour. Father, glorify thy 
name ; " — illustrate in and by me, in that way thou seest 
best, thy glorious perfections, and accomplish thereby 
the purposes of love and mercy for which thou didst 
send me into the world. And to a similar purport is 
the reply made by God himself to this expression of 

* 1 Cor. vi. 20. t Rom. xii. 1. 

56 



442 

devout acquiescence and of devotement to his will and 
service, " I have both glorified it, and I will glorify it 
again." 

On the whole, to glorify God, in the scriptural sense 
of the expression, includes the offering of praise and 
worship; the less direct, but not less acceptable offering 
of the heart and life ; and the promotion of the interests 
of religion and virtue in the world. We glorify God by 
whatever manifests right sentiments and affections con- 
cerning his perfections, laws, and providence, and by 
whatever promotes them amongst others. We may 
glorify God by our public homage, or our private devo- 
tion, by our labors or by our sufferings, by our instruc- 
tions or by our example; and we may" glorify him too 
by our self-denial, our submission, patience, and resig- 
nation. 

And all this, according to the apostolic direction, 
should be done " through Jesus Christ." He was de- 
sirous, that those to whom he addressed his invaluable 
Epistle, should, in all things — by what they did, by what 
they taught, and by what they suffered — glorify God 
through Jesus Christ. The import of this expression 
may be clearly perceived from the corresponding pas- 
sage of the Apostle Paul, in the third chapter of his 
Epistle to the Colossians, " Whatsoever ye do, in word 
or in deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus," — do 
all under the guidance of his precepts, and under the 
habitual influence of his spirit, — do all as those who own 
his authority 'here, and must one day stand before his 
tribunal. And, in like manner, in the words of my text, 
the Apostle Peter's desire was, that his fellow Christians 
should, in all things, glorify God, by the right use of 



443 

those privileges and spiritual gifts, which they had re- 
ceived, through Jesus Christ, by the diffusion of the 
knowledge of the Gospel, and of faith in Christ, and by 
their own Christian lives and conversation. 

This important apostolic direction is in no way limit- 
ed to the first Christians ; and I proceed, 

II. To show its application. 

1 . God is glorified by the diffusion of such knowl- 
edge respecting his works, as tends to give a lively con- 
viction of his existence, and of his attributes of power, 
wisdom, and goodness. The Psalmist beautifully saith, 
" The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firma- 
ment showeth his handy work." " Ask the beasts (saith 
Job) and they shall teach thee, and the fowls of the air 
and they shall tell thee, or speak to the earth and it shall 
teach thee, and the fishes of the sea shall declare unto 
thee : who knoweth not that the hand of the Lord hath 
wrought all these, in whose hand is the soul of every 
living thing, and the breath of all mankind." " We are 
fearfully and wonderfully made." — " His tender mercies 
are overall his works."— He who has the power of dis- 
covering the wonders of nature, of tracing out the op- 
erations of divine wisdom, and of showing how and 
why the creating and preserving agency of God has 
been employed ; who himself rises from the works of 
God, to Him who formed all, and can lead others also to 
know God as their Maker and Preserver, to entertain 
reverential thoughts of his excellencies, to connect such 
thoughts of him and of his perfections with the wonders 
of his hands, and with the displays of goodness, of wis- 
dom, and of benevolence, which, to the religious obser- 
ver, are seen in all that the eye beholds, or that the hu- 



444 

man powers can discover ; — he does, in his sphere, and 
an important one too, glorify the God whose we are, 
and whose glory is throughout the earth and the heav- 
ens. 

2. God is glorified by all that manifests his provi- 
dential and moral administration respecting mankind. 

The most important principles are indeed communi- 
cated to us by express revelation ; and what we have 
to do, in our meditations on the ways of God, is to 
apply those principles, to trace out their agreement with 
his dealings and dispensations, and to observe how they 
mutually illustrate each other. But, in the course of 
Providence, various events occur, which read the most 
impressive lessons respecting the laws of his government ; 
which show us that he not only exercises a father's care 
over all the creatures of his goodness, but that he is the 
righteous Judge of the whole earth ; that he has made 
obedience to duty the purest and most stable source of ad- 
vantage and comfort, even in this period of our existence ; 
that he has made the present path of wickedness really 
baneful, however alluring its appearance ; that he em- 
ploys the discipline of life to lead his wandering children 
to duty and himself ; in short, that though the present 
is only to be regarded as a preparatory and probationary 
state, and, to be rightly understood, must be taken in its 
connexion with that state in which the plans of the 
divine government will be completed and fully vindicat- 
ed, yet that here, too, his ways are all holy and all just. 

Now in whatever way, that is consistent with truth, 
we can illustrate his ways, and lead others to view 
him as their God, their Guide, their Guardian, and their 
Judge, — to own his hand with reverence in the awful 



445 

dealings of his Providence : with gratitude, in those 
that are marked by obvious mercy ; with trust, when 
they are involved in darkness ; with submissive resigna- 
tion, when they dry up the sources of earthly comfort, 
— we may thus glorify that great being in whose hand 
our breath is, and whose are all our ways. But further, 

3. God is glorified in an especial manner, by the 
effectual diffusion of the Gospel, since there his perfec- 
tions are most plainly illustrated, his dealings towards 
mankind most clearly displayed, and his requirements of 
homage and service most forcibly delineated and sanc- 
tioned. 

This is the knowledge which will make men wise 
unto salvation. It is in the Gospel that we learn to 
know God, in some good measure as he really is, and 
to love, and fear, and serve him, as we ought. Here 
we learn what is the end of man, by what laws his great 
Governor directs his proceedings towards him, by what 
means we may obtain his favor and shun his displea- 
sure. Here is knowledge for the ignorant, direction 
for the blind, strength for the weak, rest for the weary, 
consolation for the heavy in heart. It is impossible to 
study the Holy Scriptures with honest hearts and 
enlightened understandings, without becoming wiser 
and better ; and in proportion as the Gospel is believed 
and obeyed, is God glorified, — for in that proportion 
will his name be hallowed, and his will be done on 
earth as it is done in heaven. 

If, therefore, you can aid to send gospel light into 
regions which still sit in darkness and the shadow of 
death, ano) contribute to the arrival of that time which 
we are encouraged to anticipate, when the knowledge 



of the Lord shall cover the earth as the waters do the 
channels of the deep ; if you can introduce it into those 
dark and bewildered minds, which, though in the midst 
of light, are enveloped in the gloomy mists of sin, or in 
debasing ignorance of God and duty ; if you can remove 
those errors which obscure the character and dealings of 
the Father of mercies, and check the divine efficacy of 
gospel principles ; if you can lead back those who have 
forsaken the ways of heavenly wisdom, and bring them 
to the Shepherd and Bishop of souls; if you can instil 
into the minds of the young and uncorrupted, those 
principles of Christian obedience, which will grow with 
their growth, and strengthen with their strength, which 
will make them, in their day and generation, central 
points from which piety and virtue will be disseminated, ' 
as you endeavor to disseminate them ; by whatever 
means, and in whatever degree, you lead others to 
receive the Gospel into their hearts, and make it the 
rule of their lives, you are thereby fulfilling the devout 
desire of the Apostle, that God may in all things be glo- 
rified through Jesus Christ. 

Much may be done by most persons if they are care- 
ful to seek for opportunities, and to embrace them as 
they present themselves, to sow the seeds of gospel 
truth and practice, by direct instruction ; — but one 
means, and a most important one too, we all possess, 
to spread the influence of the Gospel, and that is by a 
Christian life and conversation. This was peculiarly in 
the view of our Lord in the passage which I have al- 
ready stated, where he exhorts his disciples to let their 
light so shine before men, that they may be led thereby to 
glorify their heavenly Father. It is exceedingly seldom 



447 

that the efficacy of a Christian example is confined 
within narrow limits. Some are like cities set on a hill, 
which cannot be hid ; and their virtues, as well as their 
vices, have a wide sphere of influence ; and in propor- 
tion to the extent of this talent is their responsibility. 
But wherever the graces of the Christian character are 
manifested, by active beneficence, by benevolent cour- 
tesy, by firm integrity, by godly sincerity, by self-de- 
nial, and by patient suffering, something must be done 
to cherish a love of Christian obedience in the minds of 
others, to strengthen virtuous principles and resolutions, 
and to give their hearts a decided bias in favor of 
Christian conduct. When it is seen that religion makes 
a man more useful, more respectable, and more happy, 
— that it operates to support, to direct, to yield guid- 
ance, strength, and consolation, — without any effort of 
reasoning, the vital principle expands, and spreads from 
the bosom where it has been cherished and obeyed, to 
reanimate the dormant desires in favor of goodness, 
and to encourage and invigorate every virtuous dispo- 
sition. 

" To be seen of men," must not indeed be our ob- 
ject ; for this will debase our virtue, and call us from 
those higher motives, which purify and exalt in propor- 
tion as they are entertained : but to take care that our 
good is not evil spoken of, and to cultivate the attrac- 
tive, as well as to exercise the commanding excellencies 
of the Christian character, is our duty, because thus we 
may lead others to the love and practice of duty, so that 
God may be glorified through Jesus Christ. 

I might now enter into the obvious fact, that we glo- 
rify God by solemn acts of Christian worship, by our 



448 

adoration of his perfections, by ouracknowledgments of 
his mercies, our expressions of humble contrition and 
repentance, our supplications for future blessings, and 
reliance on his care and goodness ; and this, whether 
the offering be paid where the language and spirit of 
devotion nlay excite and cherish the affections of piety 
in the breast of others, or in those solemn moments when 
no eye witnesses us but our Maker's, when, by prayer 
and supplication with thanksgiving, we pour out our 
hearts before Him who readeth the language of the 
heart, where the lips must be silent. But I will pro- 
ceed to observe, 

4. That we glorify God, whenever we act under the 
influence of religious principle, from a sense of Christian 
duty, prompted by the example and spirit of Jesus, and 
guided by his commands ; from a regard to the constant 
presence of God, and desire to serve and please him ; 
whenever, in short, we are actuated, in doing or bearing 
the will of God, by a sincere regard to him as our 
Maker, our Preserver, our Witness, and our Judge. 

If we exert ourselves, according to our ability, to 
promote the great ends of God's government — the wel- 
fare of his spiritual offspring, by cherishing the inter- 
ests of religion and virtue in the world around us — - 
whether our sphere of usefulness be wide or narrow, — 
by those exertions we glorify God, and, in as far as 
they have been prompted by a sincere aim to serve and 
please him, they will be accepted by him, as done to his 
glory. 

If, in the more usual employments of life, in our 
daily business, and the common duties of our station, 
we are influenced, directed, and restrained by the fear 



449 

of God, by a hearty concern to approve ourselves to him 
as the great Being who hath appointed our lot in life, 
and assigned us our several parts and situations in it, 
we yield an acceptable offering of obedience to him, and, 
in the daily walks of life, we are glorifying the great 
Father of our spirits. If in our families, or the wider 
social circle, we contribute to the comforts and innocent 
pleasures of others, from the disposition of Christian 
courtesy and good- will ; if, from the promptings of 
Christian love, we give our time, our abilities, our mo- 
ney — according to the talents which God hath lent us, — 
to promote the happiness of others, to relieve their 
wants, to heal their diseases, to soothe their sorrows, to 
cheer the dejected heart, to raise up those that are cast 
down, even if all we can offer is the kind expression and 
considerate attention of sympathy ; by every such act 
and expression — more especially if influenced by the pre- 
vailing desire to please Him who is the common parent of 
mankind, and who hath fixed us in our various relations 
of life, and made man necessary to man, — we glorify 
him ; and he who looketh at the heart will graciously 
accept the service as done to himself. 

If in the severer trials of duty and religious prin- 
ciple, with holy watchfulness and fear, we repress all 
high thoughts of ourselves, and check the risings of 
envy, hatred, and uncharitableness, and deny ungod- 
liness and worldly lusts, and endeavor to present our 
bodies a living sacrifice to him who made them ; if, 
with Christian fortitude, we resist the temptations of 
interest, of reputation, or of passion, to swerve from 
the straight-forward path of Christian truth and up- 
rightness ; if, with godly resolution, while others make 
51 



4*50 

shipwreck of faith and a good conscience, we remember 
our allegiance to our Master, and serve the Lord, 
though those around forsake him ; then we do indeed 
glorify God, and may with cheerful confidence encour- 
rage the conviction, that he to whom our days are known 
will accept our efforts after self-government, our strug- 
gles and our sacrifices, as the noblest service and the 
best offering to his glory. 

In the hour of prosperity we may glorify God by a 
wise and faithful use of our means of good to others, as 
accountable to him for our talents, and by keeping our- 
selves unspotted from the world. And if under those 
afflictions with which, with a Father's love, he visits 
his children, ' to lead them onward towards him, to 
refine their affections, to humble, though not to break 
their heart, to lead them to seek their chief happiness in 
him, and to aim to glorify him in all things by Jesus 
Christ ; if the chastening hand of the Lord sever the 
close bonds of affection, or blast the opening bud, or 
wither the arm of industry, or cloud the prospect of 
worldly prosperity, or inflict pains of body or depression 
of mind ; if it thwart the purposes of benevolence, or 
long confine to the couch of weakness, and interrupt 
many of the common blessings of life ; if under our 
disappointment, our solicitude, our sorrow, God is 
acknowledged, his wisdom and his goodness heartily 
trusted, his chastisements patiently borne and wisely 
improved ; — then, by our patience, and humility, and 
trust, and resignation, we glorify him, and he who views 
us " struggling with our load " will accept them as to his 
glory, equally with the most grateful services of health, 
and cheerfulness, and prosperity. Surely we have in- 



451 

deed reason to say, his commandments are not grievous, 
his yoke is easy, iiis burden is light. My heart's desire 
and prayer for you is, that you may yield yourselves up 
to his service, and do all to his glory. 

I have said enough to show, that it is no impossible 
duty to glorify God in all things ; but it cannot be ful- 
filled if the world have the chief place in our hearts ; 
it cannot be fulfilled if we do not cherish the principle 
of piety by the diligent use of the means of piety — 
the social exercises of religion, the serious perusal 
of the Holy Scriptures, devout meditation on the per- 
fections and dealings of God, and, above all, by sincere 
and habitual prayer. No one who has observed the 
workings of the human mind in connexion with the 
principle and affections of religion, can doubt that 
prayer has been made, by Him who reads the language 
of the heart, the means of obtaining spiritual blessings 
from him ; nor is our frequent ignorance of the precise 
way in which prayer is answered, any argument against 
its efficacy : It cannot be without efficacy, if it be the 
devout communion of a heart enlightened by the Gos- 
pel, its sincere desires after spiritual light and strength 
and direction and obedience. Its operation is on the 
heart ; and I see no reason to believe that the blessings 
which it obtains from Him from whom proceeds every 
good and perfect gift, can be effectually procured with- 
out it. At any rate, the Christian's duty is plain. He 
cannot have the spirit of his Lord, if he be without the 
spirit of prayer. Without prayer he cannot be prepared 
to meet the trials of life with firmness, composure, and 
resignation ; to endure its continued calamities with hu- 
mility snd patience ; to resist the great temptations of 



452 

interest or of unhallowed pleasure, or perhaps the still 
more dangerous, because constant, influence of the 
world, with Christian resolution and watchfulness. Let 
me then earnestly entreat you to be sober and watch 
unto prayer ; to acknowledge God in all your ways ; 
to live as in his sight, and to make it your chief concern 
to serve and please him : " In every thing by prayer 
and supplication with thanksgiving to make known 
your desires unto God; and may the peace of God, 
which passeth understanding, keep your hearts and 
minds through Jesus Christ." Amen. 



PRAYER. 

O God, our Heavenly Father and Almighty Friend, 
who hast in mercy given us all things richly to enjoy ; 
so grant us, we implore Thee, the aid of thy holy and 
good spirit, that in all things we may be enabled to glo- 
rify Thee through Jesus Christ. The glories of thy 
nature heaven and earth unite to declare ; so may we, 
in our humble measure, show forth the glories of thy 
providential arrangements, by a practice jn consonance 
with the divine principles, of the Gospel, and by pro- 
moting peace on earth and good-will among men. 
May this our abode become, by the presence of devout 
and humble worshippers, a temple for Thee to dwell in, 
that here thy name may be hallowed and glorified. 
Lead us each ever to seek after those things which make 
for peace, and whereby we may edify one another — 
those things which will increase our estimate of the 



453 

value of thy favor, of the worth of the immortal spirit, 
the importance of the present disciplinary state, and 
the weight of glory that is in reserve for thy faithful 
servants : so that while we improve the few days allot- 
ted to us here, we may be preparing for eternal bliss 
hereafter ; and thus fulfilling thy gracious intentions 
towards us, may though humble and sinful, be permit- 
ted to glorify Thee our Father, and the Father of the 
universe. Now to Thee, almighty and most merciful 
Creator, of whom, to whom, and through whom are all 
things, be glory in our hearts and lives for ever. 
Amen. 



SERMON XXVIII 



THE GOOD OF AFFLICTION. 



Psalm cix. 71. 

IT 13 GOOD FOR ME THAT I HAVE BEEN AFFLICTED, THAT I MIGHT 
LEARN THY STATUTES." 



" It is good for me that I have been afflicted :" — happy 
would it be for us, my brethren, if this were our senti- 
ment, and if our hearts thus reposed in Providence. 
How tranquil would our soul be, if persuaded that 
God, while he has disposed all events for the greatest 
good of his creatures, retains them under his ceaseless 
control, we were able to confide in him in all the 
circumstances of our life, and to see in the dispensations 
which appear at first the most inauspicious, the advan- 
tages which will subsequently result. Unhappily, these 
are not our thoughts, this is not our language. Not 
that our doubt extends to the dealings of Providence in 
general : we are not blind enough for that. We believe 
that God conducts the whole of the world ; that he has 
regulated and arranged everything with the deepest 
wisdom, and we place the most entire confidence in him 
as long as our lot is happy : but does it change, are our 



455 

plans traversed, are we visited by affliction, and expos- 
ed to the storms of life, — then our confidence in Provi- 
dence wavers ; we see no longer that wisdom and that 
goodness which we used to admire in his ways ; we can 
no longer harmonise with his tenderness the evils he 
permits us to experience ; God appears to have aban- 
doned us, and murmurs are ready to escape from our 
lips. " How unhappy I am : my fortune has received 
a check, from which it will never recover!" "He is 
gone, my husband, the sole support of my children, and 
I am undone ! " " That calumny has dishonored me for 
ever ; the idea of it will be the torment of my life ! " 
Foolish complaints, unjustifiable distrust! God is ever 
a tender father to us, even when he exposes us to the 
blows of adversity ; and those afflictions through which 
he leads us, may prove to us of incalculable advantage. 
This is what I now propose to show. 

You are men, exposed consequently to sufferings. 
Many of you perhaps groan now under the weight of 
some calamity. Those who are in prosperity, may be 
on the point of falling. Evil, ever present or at hand, 
threatens you all. Come, then, all of you, and arm 
yourselves against its blows, and draw consoling 
thoughts from religion : come, and learn from it to what 
an extent the very evils of which you complain may, if 
you knew how to profit by them, produce the happiest 
consequences. 

When we are well convinced, my brethren, that God 
has each of us constantly under his notice ; that he 
wishes the happiness of us all, and that he has in his 
power a thousand means to lead us to it, we are natu- 
rally induced to ask why, this being the case, he often 



456 

leaves us in, yea exposes us to, misfortune ; and we can 
find no other reason, except that our afflictions have 
their uses, seen of God, but unknown to us, and that 
what we call evil is really good. This conclusion is con- 
firmed by the Holy Scriptures in many places. They often 
represent the different troubles of life as benefits from 
God : they tell us that he chastens those whom he loves, 
and that our transient sufferings produce an infinitely 
excellent weight of glory. What, then, is that happi- 
ness which we buy so dearly, that, to lead us to acquire 
it, He who is our Father exposes us sometimes to many 
and long calamities? He tells us himself. It is only 
through much tribulation that we can be fitted for en- 
tering on the happiness of heaven ; that we can be ren- 
dered partakers of his holiness. It is good, said David, 
after having learnt by experience, it is good for me to 
have been afflicted, that I ,may learn thy statutes : 
before I went astray, but now I keep thy word. It is, 
then, to perfect your characters, to render you worthy 
of the happiness which God has in reserve for the right- 
eous, that he subjects you to the reverses of which you 
complain ; that he deprives one of you of your fortune ; 
that he takes from another a beloved child ; that he 
allows the reputation of a third to be torn by calumny. 
Doubtless, my brethren, if God took counsel of flesh and 
blood, he would pursue a different course. Doubtless, 
if he left to our will the removal of evils, at the mo- 
ment when they are on the point of falling on our 
heads, most, perhaps all of us, would sacrifice to the 
ease and gratification of life, the inestimable advantages 
which may accrue to us from momentary calamities. 
For such is the ordinary tenor of our conduct. Although 



457 

we profess to expect a future life, and are convinced of 
its certainty, we commonly conduct ourselves as if all 
our hopes' were limited to this earth. A world that we 
have never seen, an existence in futurity, although de- 
monstrated to the satisfaction of our mind, have only a 
feeble influence on oui imagination. The present, as 
a greedy usurer, sells to our inconsiderate youth a few 
wretched gratifications, at the price of the rich patri- 
mony of happiness laid up in the heavens ; and we 
should perhaps be mean enough to renounce the joys of 
eternity, if we had to purchase them by twenty or thirty 
years of earthly trouble. But do you think that you 
would have the same sentiments on the bed of death ? 
Would not the dying man, think you, who is no longer 
deceived by false hopes ; who, placed between the two 
worlds, is able to see them both at once, — would not the 
dying man wish, with his whole strength, that he had 
passed his life in tribulations ? Did Lazarus in heaven 
envy the bad rich man the opulence and pleasures 
in which he had lived ? On the other hand, woifd not 
the bad rich man, could he have lived again, have covet- 
ed the poverty and the wounds of Lazarus ? These 
are undoubtedly persons who are in a state to compare 
the afflictions of this world with the fruits they pro- 
duce in the next, and who can judge which is prefer- 
able here, a portion of evil, or constant prosperity. 
But God, who judges better still; God, who weighs in 
the balance some years of bitterness against an eternity 
of bliss; God, who loves us and has disposed every 
thing for our greatest good, places us sometimes in the 
school of misfortune, in consideration of the great ad- 
vantages which may result; — for adversity makes us 
58 



458 

enter into our own breasts, and reminds us of our sins ; 
it humbles our pride ; it detaches us from the world ; 
whilst prosperity produces the opposite effects^ 

Adversity, I remarked, makes us enter into our own 
hearts, and reminds us of our sins. Whilst success 
favors us, my brethren, we are little disposed to re- 
proach ourselves with our vices ; we try to fly from 
ourselves, and to blind our minds as to their results. 
The world, pleasures, business, come to our aid. Con- 
science, which at first raised its voice, grows tired of 
never beingheard. 1 1 speaks no longer, except occasion- 
ally, and at last becomes entirely mute. Disembarrassed 
from this troublesome witness, the sinner thinks no more 
of God; flatters himself that the Judge of all pardons 
his transgressions. Religion loses ail its influence. 
The Saviour is banished from the heart. All his prin- 
ciples degenerate one after the other ; vicious inclina- 
tions are changed into vicious habits ; doubts arise, and 
generate confirmed infidelity. As a courser, which, 
having broken loose from its bridle, overleaps every 
obstacle in its resistless course, so this sinner, if God 
did not put a limit to his excesses, would blindly hurry 
forward, and rush into the abyss of destruction. But 
the Almighty saves him from the effects of his own 
madness, sometimes by the evils which have resulted 
from it in this world. He suddenly sends him a dan- 
gerous illness, the natural fruit of his criminal excesses. 
He gives birth to an occasion, which, in overwhelming 
him with shame, shows him the deep contempt which 
the disorders of his life have infused into the public 
mind. He plunges him into poverty by some disaster, 
which resulted from the neglect of his duties. Then 



459 

the unfortunate man stops ; the fatal bandage falls sud- 
denly from his eyes ; he looks around him, and starts 
back affrighted. Then his conscience, which had so 
long slumbered, makes his awaking terrible by its 
stings. How piercing, how cruel are they ! Ah ! 
pierce, tear, torment, Conscience, thou messenger of 
God, sent to save his soul from sufferings far more 
frightful ! No longer can he conjure up illusions ; no 
longer blind himself as to his real condition ; no longer 
fancy that Heaven absolves him of his crimes ; no longer 
put to silence that importunate voice, and drive away 
the dark thoughts that trouble his breast : all that sur- 
rounds him brings them up to his mind ; his body 
weakened and broken down by pain, the manifest 
approach of death, opulence. that has vanished, a suc- 
cession of difficulties ai\d embarrassments, or the con- 
tempt that he reads in the eyes of all who know him, 
and that breaks forth. in every conversation respecting 
himself. 

The afflictions to which God exposes us are not, I 
know, always of this nature — are not always a- natural 
consequence of our faults ; at least, it is not easy to 
discover this connexion in every instance, and some- 
times they fall on men in whose conduct there is noth- 
ing criminal. But, in the most virtuous there are many 
failures, and often serious faults. Whilst prosperity 
continues they are not seen. Imagination lends to every 
object a smiling aspect, and men see.even themselves in 
the same pleasing light. A certain undefmable intoxi- 
cation is inseparable from success. This blinds even 
the good ; conceals their faults from their own sight, 
and sometimes transforms them into virtues. Alas ! 



460 

who of us does not know this fata] intoxication, — who 
of us, when the present is smiling, when hope is embel- 
lishing the future, when joy circulates throughout his 
frame, has not felt a certain esteem for himself, which 
prevented him from sounding his heart ; an indulgence 
which excused all faults, and extolled the least excellen- 
cies ? Whilst the children of Jacob lived around their 
father in the bosom of tranquillity and opulence, they 
thought not. of the cruelty which they had been guilty 
of in selling their brother Joseph into slavery ; but they 
remembered their crime when in Egypt, and when 
menaced with prison and death. Thirty years after 
their atrocious sin, remorse awakens in their hardened 
hearts. " We," they say, " are verily guilty concerning 
our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul and 
would not hear ; therefore isthis distress come upon us." 
O Adversity ! thou art the true friend of man ! thou 
dost not blind him ; thou dost not mislead him by per- 
fidious flatteries ; thou makest him enter into his own 
bosom ; thou presentest to him the mirror of truth ;' 
thou showest him, what without thee he would never 
have seen, his own heart, with its weaknesses, its sins, 
its vicious inclinations. What a sight ! At first he is 
humbled, saddened, confounded ; but from this mental 
confusion soon there ensue repentance, energy, christian 
resolutions, and. on this rich foundation Divine grace 
raises the edifice of his salvation ! 

But afflictions; have another and most valuable 

advantage, that of humbling our pride. This vice, 

which is so contrary to our nature, from which our 

. weakness, our imperfections, . our dependence on all 

around us, ought for so many reasons to keep us free ; 



461 

this vice, which is the source of many others, 'which 
almost always engenders impiety and licentiousness, 
which is itself rebellion against God, and, as he himself 
has declared, one of the most offensive in his sight ; this 
vice, which certainly excludes him who is guilty of it 
from eternal happiness — pride, my brethren, you know 
insinuates itself, and springs up too easily in our hearts. 
Whilst we live in moderate circumstances, it does not 
commonly make great progress ; but in the rays of 
prosperity it grows, extends, produces fruit. At first 
we are disposed to ascribe our success to Providence ; 
but in proportion as it increases— in proportion, that is, 
as Providence blesses our efforts, we lose sight of its 
agency : to ourselves, to our labors we attribute our 
prosperity ;■ it is our own industry that increases our rich- 
es, and secures the wisdom of our enterprises ; it is our 
own merit that draws on us public consideration, and 
advances us in the world ; it is the goodness of our 
character that gives us friends. The admiration we feel 
towards ourselves, is, we soon fancy, felt by others. 
We raise ourselves above tbem ; we affect distinguished 
manners ; we forget those with whom we had been pre- 
viously connected ; we display before their sight a luxury 
that astonishes them ; we become harsh, imperious to 
our inferiors, lofty and exacting with our equals ; with- 
out compassion towards the unfortunate. Soon does he, 
whom fortune has always favored, persuade himself 
that it has no longer the power to abandon him ; that 
he. is himself the arbiter of his lot ; he no longer thinks 
that his life, his talents, his happiness, his all comes to 
him from God ; that on him he depends for everything. 
In this infatuation, swollen with pride, he casts around 



462 

him his disdainful eyes, and exclaims, " I am alone ; 
there is none but me on the earth;" and, in. the spirit 
of Nebuchadnezzar, " Is not this the great Babylon, 
which I have built by my power, for my royal abode ?" 
and, in the spirit of Alexander, dazzled with his suc- 
cess, forgets that he is a man ; forgets even God himself. 

What can recall . him from this intoxication ? 
Nothing but the blows of adversity can work this 
miracle. God thunders from the highest heavens, 
"Cut down the tree; scatter its fruit; disperse its 
foliage." Against this man, " Let him be deprived of 
those riches which have inflated his heart;" — against 
another, " Let calumny blacken his reputation, he has 
been greedy of honor;" — against a third, " Let him be 
cast in disgrace from that dignity to which his ambition 
had caused him to ascend." O God of judgment! how 
terrible, yet how salutary are thy inflictions ! They 
scatter, as by enchantment, those mists of vanity with 
which the proud man had been bewildered ; they destroy 
thatscaffoldingofambitiousprojectsthathe had construct- 
ed. Then he renounces those vain grandeurs which were 
the aliment of his pride and arrogance ; he learns to 
be modest towards his fellow-creatures ; compassionate 
to the unfortunate. He sees himself as he is, poor, 
wretched, and naked ; he acknowledges that all his 
talents, his qualities, his advantages, all that he has, 
come from God, and he humbles himself under his pow- 
erful hand. It is thus that the blo\vs of Providence, 
which take from us the objects of our affections, destroy 
our pride. They do still more ; they detach our hearts 
from earth, and direct them to heaven. 

What a multitude of good things have, my brethren, 



463 

been shed on our abode ! How is every thing arranged 
for the happiness of the beings who dwell here ! Objects 
which flatter our senses ; beauties which gladden our 
imaginations ; above all, sentiments which transport 
our souls — the sublime exertions of generosity, of virtue 
— the sweet affections of friendship, of humanity, of 
patriotism — all unite to render us happy, and attach us 
to this world. Yet it is not our country ; it is only a 
place of passage, only a vestibule to lead us to our true 
dwelling. For what is it destined ? Not to engross 
our affections ; but to instruct us, to prepare our souls 
for enjoyments of a nobler order, to render them fit 
for a purer happiness. If, however, it is so magnificent, 
what must be the beauties of the home to which we 
tend ; what must, be the joys which are in reserve for 
us ; what must be the transports which are prepared 
for our hearts in that place of perfection where God 
himself dwells ? But we think not of it, we forget it ; 
yes, that world of felicity, the road to which Jesus has 
marked and trod, which God offers as the recompense 
of virtue, and the conquest of which ought to be the 
great end of our life, excites but feebly our desires, and 
kindles but slightly our ambition. The flowers that we 
meet in the road of life cause us to lose sight of this 
grand object : dazzled by brilliant trifles, we retard our 
progress towards solid good ; satisfied by a few pitiful 
gratifications, we wish for nothing better ; we say with 
Peter, " It is good for us to be here, let us make our- 
selves tents ;" we grow attached to earth ;■ the idea of 
leaving it fills us with alarm. Fools that we are ! such 
is our love for this world, that we should be satisfied 
never to leave it ; that we should consent to exchange 



464 

what is every thing, for what is nothing ; that ocean of 
felicity, for a few pleasures of little value ! But God, 
who sees our blindness, pities us ; mingles bitterness 
with the sweets of this life ; takes from us the coveted 
good, when we are on the point of seizing it — the ob- 
jects of our affections, in the moment when we think 
our possession sure. This man had placed his heart 
on riches ; God snatches them away : —another, on a 
beloved child ; God smites it in its father's embrace. 
One lived only for friendship— lived by the attachment 
of those to whom he was ever doing good ; and God 
allows his reward to be treachery and ingratitude » 
Another longed for glory ; instead he gives him disgrace. 
Under these blows the soul is broken down ; for a time 
it is unable to recover from its griefs •; it feels an im- 
mense void ; a deep melancholy consumes it ; on every 
side it searches for consolation ; finding none, it turns 
upon itself. What terrible blows have struck my heart ! 
the Christian exclaims : how gloomy this world appears ! 
What folly to fix my heart upon it ! It is filled only 
with unreal objects. I stretch out my hand to seize 
riches, they fly away ; I open my arms to embrace my 
child, he is gone ; I have exhausted the cup of life, 
there remains but bitter dregs. All my property, all 
my friends, all that I loved, abandons me. O, my God 
and Father ! the reason is, thou wishest to draw me to 
thyself: thou snatchest away perishable good, because 
thou wishest to secure for me permanent good ; thou 
disconcertest my affections, that I may direct them on 
him who will never deceive ; thou takest its brightness 
from the splendor of the world; thou renderest its 
pleasures tasteless ; thou causest me to find pain in what 



465 

constituted my happiness. Ah! the reason is, thou 
wishest to turn ray view toward those happy shores ; 
to seek, to covet, to lay hold on that life, in which are 
found real joys, supreme beauty, true riches ; thou call- 
est me from the heavens ; thou encouragest me to take 
my flight to those happy mansions, to follow those whom 
my heart loves. I hear thy voice, tender Father ; I 
yield to thy invitations ; I desire to depart hence and 
be with Christ. 

Thus then, my brethren, those afflictions which we 
dreaded, and of which we complained, may produce 
the most happy consequences. Yes, it is good for us 
to be afflicted. If we lived always in prosperity, we 
should never enter into our own breasts, and remain 
therefore ignorant of our sins; inordinate pride would 
inflate our hearts; we should be so attached to the 
earth and its miserable pleasures, as to desire never to 
quit them. But adversity awakens our soul by its 
salutary shocks ; it dissipates that charm which embel- 
lishes, in our eyes, the deformity of our conduct ; it 
prostrates our pride, detaches us from the false good of 
this world, to make us aspire to that which is unalloyed 
with pain, and which will be unlimited in duration. 
The remedy is bitter, the operation is painful, but it is 
necessary for our salvation. . " Chastisement," says Paul, 
"is for the present not joyous, but grievous; neverthe- 
less, it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness to 
them who are exercised thereby." A child weeps, rebels, 
because his father subjects him to a severe discipline, ' 
and makes him undergo the toil of study : he does not 
foresee the advantages which will subsequently accrue 
to him. We, in the, same way, dread afflictions, weep, 
59 



466 

rebel, despair, when God makes them our portion. 
Why ? We do not know all the good that they are fitted 
to communicate ; we do not know how many evils they 
cause us to avoid, how much happiness they will pro- 
duce. But a day is coming when we shall know it, 
when we shall congratulate ourselves on our exposure 
to sorrow, when we shall bless our Heavenly Father for 
the way in which he led us to himself. As a traveller, 
who, arrived at his beloved home, feels a pleasure in 
retracing in his mind and recounting in his family the 
woes he has felt, the dangers he has run, the mischances 
he has experienced, so we, arrived in our heavenly 
country, shall contemplate with ravishment all the pains 
we underwent on the journey of life ; shall dwell with 
satisfaction on the crosses we have found ; be filled with 
surprise in discovering the wise designs of Providence 
in our afflictions, and the numberless benefits which 
have resulted from them. We, my fellow-christians, 
we who know and feel the truth of these assertions, we 
will never tire in blessing our Father, in adoring him 
for all he has done for us ; especially for those trials 
which, in spite of our tears, our cries, our murmurs, he 
has caused us to experience. 

O tender Father, who ceasestnot to be occupied with 
our happiness, and who, by ways to us unknown, con- 
ductest us to a felicity far' above all our thoughts ; par- 
don the doubts, the complaints, that we sometimes al- 
low to escape from our lips against thy wise and benig- 
nant dispensations. Thou knowest we are feeble and 
ignorant. Our ways are not thy ways, we acknowledge 
at this holy hour. And forever do we abjure our mur- 
murs, lay aside our distrust, place ourselves under thy 



467 

guidance. Whatever thou decidest, we will submit, 
adore, and have no other care but to please thee, by ob- 
serving thy holy will. 



PRAYER. 

Sovereign Benefactor, tender Father of men ! we 
come to bless Thee for the mercies with which Thou 
dost incessantly supply us. Thou hast not merely pla- 
ced us in this beautiful world, where we find in abund- 
ance all that is necessary for our wants and our pleas- 
ures ; Thou hast also given us a mind to know and a 
heart to love Thee. That Thou mayest unite us with 
thyself, Thou hast placed in us the desire and presenti- 
ment of immortality : thy Son has come to tell us of 
the glorious destiny that Thou hast laid up for us ; to 
save us from the despair which the consciousness of our 
sins creates ; and to promise pardon to those who, full 
of contrition, return to thee with full purpose of heart. 
And every moment Thou speakest in our conscience, 
instructest our minds by thy Gospel, and dwellest near 
and in us each. O immeasurable love ! how can we 
sufficiently celebrate Thee ? O paternal Providence ! 
how can we sufficiently bless Thee, sufficiently love, 
sufficiently trust Thee ? May these be our feelings in 
sorrow as well as joy. Let not doubt intrude, let 
not our trust waver, shouldest Thou take away our joys. 
We have questioned thy goodness, O God, we have 
murmured at thy ways. Pardon, tender Father, pardon 
thy ignorant children. With our limited faculties, we 
see but the present hour, and comprehend not thy mer- 
ciful designs. Come Thou into our hearts, and aid our 



468 

weakness, enlighten our understanding, strengthen our 
faith, raise from our sight, though but for a moment, 
the veil that hides from us the secrets of eternity. 
Teach us to see Thee in misfortune, as well as in pros- 
perity ; in sorrow, as well as in joy; and when Thou 
visitest us by affliction, that it may conduce to the per- 
fecting of our souls, and lead them to enter into the de- 
signs of thy goodness towards us. In mercy hear us, 
O our God and Father, through thy Son our Redeemer, 
Jesus Christ. 



SERMON XXIX. 



CHARITY A TWO- FOLD BLESSING. 



Acts xx. 35. 
"it is more blessed to give, than to receive." 

Christianity, whose object it is to bring the will of 
man into subjection to the supremely wise will of God, 
does not, in the pursuit of this end, neglect to present 
to our minds motives drawn from our happiness ; and it 
would be easy to deduce from a great number of pas- 
sages of the holy books, that, in the Gospel, virtue is in 
reality only a sacrifice of apparent and transitory advan- 
tages, for those which are true, solid, and eternal. 
This view of our duty results, in a striking manner, 
from these words, " It is more blessed to give, than to 
receive ; " words as touching in their pathos, as they are 
profound in their sense, in which we recognize the lofty 
wisdom and the mild charity of the Saviour who utter- 
ed them ; words which, in their brief simplicity, have 
more power on the heart than the most elaborate 
harangues. 

The text contains two ideas : It is blessed to receive : 
it is more blessed to give. These two ideas I propose 
to develope. 



470 

It is blessed to receive. Alas ! who can affirm that 
the happiness is unalloyed ? Who can be ignorant, of 
the weakness shall I say, or rather of the honorable 
delicacy, of the human heart, so far as to overlook the 
hardship that there is in the position of the upright man 
who receives ? 

I know that we ought to blush at nothing but wrong- 
doing ; and that poverty has in itself nothing to cast down 
the countenance. I know that christian charity is inge- 
nious in dissipating the embarrassments and the shame of 
the unfortunate. But it matters not, we all experience a 
certain repugnance at laying open to our fellow-men the 
secret of our distresses ; it is a necessity to which we 
yield only with regret ; it is not without a great effort 
that the indigent man, of upright character, prevails on 
himself to make his misery known. There are, doubt- 
less, miserable beings, who, reduced to extremities by 
shameful vices, and divested of every delicate feeling, 
make a game of mendicity. Dangerous enemies of the 
worthy poor, whom they make us run the risk of con- 
founding with themselves in our refusals; pests of 
society, which they weary with a steril burden, and 
which they wear away by their corruption ; they merit 
not a sensibility which they take a pleasure in duping, 
nor the benefits which they abuse to the increase of 
their own depravity. But do not confound with such 
people, the aged and the infirm, who are incapable of 
labor ; the youth, who begs you to procure him 
employment ; the poor widow, all whose efforts leave 
her unequal to the wants of her family. These yield 
to necessity, when they implore your benefactions ; and 
God alone perhaps knows all they have suffered, before 



471 

they submitted to this step — all that it has cost them to 
be able to take it. And, O that they were sure of one 
day being able to acknowledge the service you now ren- 
der them ; that they felt a certainty of one day being 
able to repay the obligations they contract ! They form, 
I allow, a false idea of that obligation : the gifts of 
charity are pure and disinterested, and it is wounded if 
the benefited think themselves under a bond to recipro- 
cate the favor. But do you think that misery always 
extinguishes the scruples, the delicacy of sensibility ? 
Would you prevent a generous heart from evincing its 
gratitude except by words ? from feeling some grief 
at being in a dependent condition, which the most 
ingenious contrivances of charity cannot always pre- 
clude ? Put yourselves in the place of the man who, 
through embarrassment, asks a favor ; of the indigent, 
compelled to extend his hand for charity, without a rea- 
sonable hope of ever being able to return the benefac- 
tion, and your heart will make up for the insufficiency 
of language to paint the delicate sentiments that agitate 
his heart. Let not, however, the pain which the indi- 
gent feels in exposing his situation, and bearing the 
consequent yoke of dependence, close your eyes to the 
happiness which he must, and which he almost always 
does, experience. 

I see, in the first place, a relief to his wants, an 
alleviation of the weight of his misery. Place his 
situation before your mind. An unfortunate foreigner, 
who has no other resource than the compassion of his 
neighbor, to enable him to pursue his journey and 
regain the haven of his native land. A poor female, 
who in agony sees the season of frost and snow approach. 



472 

Scarcely recovered from all she suffered in the preced- 
ing winter, she shudders at the thought of having again 
to endure the same evils. A father, who, by a series 
of disastrous circumstances, can no longer provide even 
mere necessaries for his children. Pass into the hovel 
into which he has been compelled to withdraw ; taste 
the food on which they lengthen out their being ; look 
at the tattered clothes with which they are covered ; 
inquire how they guard themselves against the moisture 
of their unhealthy dwelling, and you will understand 
what a father and mother must suffer for whom each 
day's returning sun discloses such a picture ; but you 
will understand also what joy they must experience, 
when the hand of compassion, guided by charity, comes 
to supply some one of their wants, to alleviate the evils 
of penury. . By your aid the mother already sees her 
dwelling less comfortless, her children more decently 
clothed, their health improved. By your aid the poor 
woman defies the frosts, and the traveller, provided for 
his journey, continues it courageously, blessing his bene- 
factor and his God. Say, then, my brethren, is it not 
" blessed to receive ?" 

But, secondly, the happiness of the poor man who 
receives is not limited to physical enjoyments, nor to 
an exemption from privations more or less hard : pro- 
ceed farther, and you will find his heart moved with 
loftier pleasures. He has met with a friend ; with one 
alive to his sad lot ; the person whom he anxiously 
sought. When we seem abandoned on every side, to 
find a protector, is, to the human soul, what to the tra- 
veller lost in the desert is the discovery of a refreshing 
stream, the long privation of which had worn down his 



473 

strength, and fed in his bosom the rage of a burning 
thirst. The soul, as well as the body, has its wants; 
wants of affection particularly, as real, imperious, eager 
to be satisfied ; and first among these wants you may 
place that of receiving, at least from rime to time, some 
tokens of good will — son.e affectionate testimonies, 
which may authorise the rejection of the idea of an 
entire solitariness in the midst of our fellow-men. 

Sheltered, my brethren, from this kind of privations, 
you can perhaps but imperfectly comprehend their 
bitterness. But it is, believe me, extreme : witness that 
gloomy sadness printed on the features of the unfortunate 
being who sees himself repulsed on every side ; witness 
also that sudden change, that smile which appears on 
his lips, the life to which he seems to be born again, at 
the first word that appears to indicate an interest and 
compassion for his lot. No, it is not the prospect only 
of an alleviation of his misery that produces this trans- 
formation in his eyes, in the accent of his voice, and in 
the whole of his manner : no, there is something 
more ; another enjoyment springing from the mysteries 
of sympathy ; a more intimate and lively pleasure, the 
privilege of a soul that God has deigned to endue with 
sensibility. 

I have a pleasure, thirdly, in thinking that a religious 
sentiment, a burst of grateful feeling, especially an 
emotion of confidence in God, adds to the happiness 
which the benefaction causes. When the mountain 
hunter has been, as by a miracle, arrested at the very 
brink of the precipice down which he was on the point of 
leaping, he blesses in his heart the God of his fathers, 
to whose protection he attributes his preservation ; and 
60 



474 

his presence of mind, his security, is confirmed for 
bounding over other perilous places which he has yet 
to pass. So the indigent, for whom a kind Providence 
has raised tip an unexpected protector, takes courage to 
pursue with less anguish his rugged path, and persuades 
himself that, in a new distress, the same hand which has 
already supported him, will raise up a new benefactor. 
Providence, he says to himself, that has just given me 
so clear a proof that his eyes are open on the most 
wretched of mortals, that Providence will not abandon 
me, if I do not yield myself to despair nor depravity. 
Has he aided me in the present emergency only, to 
desert me on a future occasion ? No, it cannot be ; 
there are every where generous hearts that he inspires : 
I should be ungrateful if I distrusted him, did I not 
cast myself peacefully on my pallet, with thanksgiving 
on my lips and confidence in my heart. This day has 
been good, happy for me. There is a pleasure even in 
want. It is "blessed to receive." 

Yes, but it is much more blessed to give. This is 
the second truth I am to establish. But, some of you 
perhaps are ready to say, what have you been doing up 
to the present moment, except showing indirectly that 
it is blessed to give, as well as to receive. Do you think 
that we are indifferent to that melioration which, as you 
have proved, our hands have effected in the pitiable con- 
dition of a brother? to that joy which he feels in having 
found in us a friend ? to that emotion of religious con- 
fidence and piety which he feels ? to all this real good 
that we have been permitted to effect ? and that at so 
little cost, merely a small sacrifice which will not affect 
our mode of life, by which even our pleasures will not 



475 

be abridged, and which will not entail on us any painful 
results, nor a burdensome dependence ? Is not the hap- 
piness we have caused our own possession ? Are not 
we the first to enjoy it ; and more deeply, perhaps, than 
even he who repays us by his benedictions ? Yes, 
doubtless, my dear brethren, the first element of the 
happiness of the charitable man who gives, is the ad- 
vantage, the happiness communicated to him who re- 
ceives. It has its origin in good-will; a species of sacred 
instinct, which unites man to man, and makes us take 
our part of the good as well as the evil which we wit- 
ness, and perhaps cause. Yes, doubtless, for a generous 
breast, in which the noble instincts of nature are still in 
their freshness, the pleasure of wiping away tears, of 
soothing pain, of rendering a fellow-creature happy, is 
one of the purest and richest gratifications that the 
Divine goodness has placed within our reach ; it is the 
only one, perhaps, to which habit imparts a new charm 
and more activity. If, therefore, no other circumstance . 
gave value to charity, this by itself would suffice to 
place the gratification of the benefactor above that 
which the benefited person feels. 

I have hitherto, my brethren, spoken to your feel- 
ings ; let me address your reason also. By endeavor- 
ing to show you the service that society obtains from 
beneficence, I design to disclose to the beneficent man 
a second source of satisfaction and happiness. 

Consider what would be the consequence of the 
inequality of human condition — of that necessary in- 
equality which is the very life of society, and in which 
the wisdom of Providence is obvious to every reflecting 
mind ; see what would be the mournful consequence, if 



476 

the richer classes did not, in some way, lend their aid 
to the laboring and indigent classes. 

Neglected penury leads to ignorance and immo- 
rality. Its ordinary companion is idleness ; and envy, 
dishonesty, blasphemy, theft, follow in its train : and 
thus it is that the bottom of society is gradually trans- 
formed into infected dregs, which corrode its foun- 
dations. The poor man, having become an object of 
contempt, quickly regards the rich as an enemy favored 
by hazard, whose opulence is an insult to his own des- 
titution ; and, but for the fear of the laws, he would 
take up arms to despoil him. Nor do the laws always 
suffice to arrest his progress, When necessity makes 
its terrible agony to be felt in a soul in which the hate- 
ful passions ferment, where is the fear, where is the 
restaint, that can repress their deadly outbreakings ? 
what force will chain them up and prevent the excess 
to which an immoral and revengeful despair may lead ? 
The restraint of religion ? Religion would not long 
continue to be of use or influence, when it, together 
with humanity, is banished from the richer classes ; or 
when it is only the vain display of forms and observan- 
ces of a steril devotion. Or should some gross super- 
stitions remain with the people after the extinction of 
morality, far from serving as a rule of conduct to them, 
they would only increase the actual disorder. Oh ! 
what a spectacle, or rather what a chaos, does society 
then offer ! What becomes of public safety ? Where 
is the guarantee of order, and of respect for property ! 
At the decline of each day, who would not tremble at 
the plots that the night would perhaps see formed, or 
put in execution ? How could one, without shuddering, 



477 

contemplate the fate of his country, containing in its 
bosom a lawless troop, ready to sell themselves to the 
first demagogues that should promise them food ? The 
foreigner would fear to disembark on that inhospitable 
shore. But let us turn our attention from these mourn- 
ful scenes, which, by the goodness of God, are unknown 
in the midst of us. 

In those nations where the indigent and laboring 
classes are the object of the solicitude of their richer 
brethren ; where the poor obtain aid proportioned to 
their wants, aid distributed with discernment and pru- 
dence, and offered with those delicate attentions which 
double its value, in those nations you will see a gener- 
ous emulation, instead of despondency ; activity follow 
energy ; industry rise out of activity ; morals walk side 
by side with the sense of the dignity of human nature, 
and the hope of finding friends and protectors. There 
you will see the poor man's cot embellished by cleanli- 
ness, order, the conjugal virtues, and maternal devoted- 
ness ; you will see children early led to fear their Ma- 
ker, to read his word, to learn their duty, to reverence 
and bless the benefactor of their parents ; and from 
these early impressions, these native virtues, you will 
see others arise, which will one day render these poor 
children useful artisans, industrious mothers, citizens 
dear, because of value to their country. There a de- 
sirable approximation takes place, proper and natural 
relations are established between classes which so many 
circumstances separate ; and these plans of generous 
kindness, where the poor find a support, and sometimes 
the rich a useful defender, make the body of society 
strong, by uniting firmly all its members. The love of 



478 

country germinates and flourishes in the hearts of men 
to whom their country is a source of gratification, and 
who may hope that it will prove a fairer land to their 
offspring. And then the country, w T hich sees in all its 
citizens brothers united with each other, and interested 
in its welfare, is tranquil as to the result of foreign ag- 
gression, and proud in peace at the concord and happi- 
ness that reign in its bosom. 

This is the work in which the beneficent man co- 
operates, and this the second source of noble pleasure 
in which he has a right to seek his reward. 

But let us raise ourselves above these merely human 
considerations, and, to comprehend all the truth of my 
text, let us regard the virtue it presents in the light of 
religion. 

He who, moved by the feeling of a pure charity, 
employs a part of his possessions in comforting his un- 
fortunate neighbor, exercises one of the virtues for 
which Heaven appears to have reserved the richest 
recompense. The sacred writers seem in difficulty to 
express with exactness all the value of beneficence in 
the sight of God. Listen to Isaiah : " Is not this the 
fast that I have chosen ; to deal thy bread to the hungry, 
and that thou bring the poor that are cast out into thy 
house ; when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him : 
then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thy 
righteousness shall go before thee ; the glory of the 
Lord shall follow thee." Recal to mind that comparison 
which Paul establishes between the gifts of beneficence 
and the seed, which, cultivated by a divine hand, will 
produce for the laborer who commits it to the earth 
an abundant harvest. Shall I tell you of the magnifi- 



479 

cent privilege offered to charity, to plead for him who 
exercises it with divine justice, and to dispose the 
supreme Judge in his favor ? O gracious Father ! when 
thy goodness points out a means so easy and so pleasant 
to obtain thy blessing, can we be so infatuated as to 
neglect, or even to avail ourselves coldly of, the advan- 
tage ? Can it be possible that we should regard as 
scarcely necessary — that we should discharge without 
zeal, or against our will, a duty which religion invests 
with the most august and affecting forms — a duty, in 
which the wise man represents him who gives to the 
poor, as lending to the Lord ; in which the Saviour 
shows himself to his charitable disciple as the object and 
the rewarder of his gifts? Either I am deceived, my 
brethren, or in this substitution which our Redeemer 
makes of himself in the place of the unfortunate whom 
their brethren succor, there breathes so much love and 
divine eloquence, that such a motive must go to the 
heart of the least fervent Christian. Yes, doubtless, in 
recalling to your mind those words, which every believer 
knows by heart, " Come, ye blessed of my Father ; for 
I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat ; I was thirsty, 
and ye gave me drink ; naked, and ye clothed me ; I 
was sick, and ye visited me ; I was in prison, and ye 
came unto- me. Inasmuch as ye have done it unto 
one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it 
unto me ; " in recalling t'o your minds these words, so 
tender and so persuasive, I shall kindle the flame of 
love in your hearts more surely, than by the strongest 
arguments ; by reminding you, that if, through christian 
love, you do good to one of your brethren, it is as if you 
did it to your Saviour himself. Yes, doubtless, this is a 



480 

recompense which will abundantly repay you, whatever 
may he the requsite sacrifice ; and which, to the 
Christian, imparts a peculiar extent of meaning to the 
truth of my text, " It is more blessed to give than to 
receive." 



PRAYER. 

Beneficent Father of the universe ; we are surround- 
ed by thy bounties : aid us to consecrate a part to thy 
service. Thou hast, in infinite wisdom and mercy, 
allowed many of thy children and our brethren to suffer 
under the evils of poverty and destitution. Open our 
hearts to feel their condition, and our hands to alleviate 
their lot. May we strive to serve Thee, by benefiting 
them ; to acknowledge thy goodness in our abundance, 
by ministering to their necessities. 

God and Father of our kind and beneficent Lord 
Jesus Christ, fill our hearts with love to the whole 
human race ; and remembering that thy Son, who was 
rich, for our sakes became poor, that we through his 
poverty might be rich, may we, in an especial manner, 
feel for and aid those who are in any kind of want. May 
the same mind be in us that was also in Christ Jesus, 
that we may take a sacred pleasure in enlightening the 
ignorant, clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, suc- 
couring the oppressed, befriending the widow, and 
guiding the orphan. Let the spirit of love abound in 
our hearts, and works of love abound in our lives, that 
as long as we are continued here, we may pass no day 



481 

without acts of beneficence, and thus lay up for our- 
selves treasures that can never pass away. God of 
love, hear us in our desires to humbly imitate Thee, and 
to follow the example of our revered and beloved Lord ; 
through whom to Thee, Father of mercies and God of 
ail consolation, be honor from our hearts and in our 
lives through endless ages. Amen. 
61 



SERMON XXX, 



CHRIST THE SAVIOUR. 



1 John iv. 14. 



" WE HAVE SEEN, AND DO TESTIFY, THAT THE FATHER SENT THE SON, 
TO BE THE SAVIOUR OF THE WORLD." 

FELLOW-Christians, we are all sinnners. No delusion 
of self-love, no sophistry of self-defence, can possibly 
conceal this alarming truth from our view. Whether 
we retrace the course of our past lives, or penetrate the 
recesses of our own hearts, or consider the nature of our 
own thoughts, we receive ample testimony to the 
humiliating fact of our deplorable frailty and unworthi- 
ness. Conscious, therefore, that under the unmitigated 
requisitions of the moral law, we should all be liable to 
condemnation, each of us must feel the solemn necessity 
of being prepared to answer the all-important qu-estion, 
" How shall I be saved?" In comparison with this 
momentous inquiry, all other considerations dwindle 
into insignificance. Whether he may be rich or poor, en- 
lightened or ignorant, honored or despised, during the 
short span of his earthly existence, might not, to a wise 
man, appear to be an object of serious importance : but, 



there is no believer in the immortality of the soul, who 
must not feel that its salvation outweighs all temporal 
interests, as much as the duration of eternity exceeds 
the duration of time. "What doth it profit a man, if 
he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ; or 
what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" 
These are considerations awfully momentous ; and yet, 
amidst the vanities, and cares, and passions of the 
world, how seldom do they press themselves upon our 
minds ! Prospects of earthly gain or pleasure, of 
earthly privation or suffering, cause our hearts to palpi- 
tate and fill our minds with emotions, engross our 
thoughts by day and haunt us in the visions of the 
night ; but, when did the weal or wo of our immortal 
spirits absorb all the energies of our minds, and all the 
feelings of our hearts ? Did we acknowledge the simple 
truth, my brethren, we should at once confess, that the 
perishable dross of time occupies an infinitely larger 
share in our affections and our thoughts, than the ever- 
during riches of eternity. " We are busied about many 
things, forgetting that one thing is needful." 

We must, therefore, duly estimate the value of sal- 
vation, before we can take a proper interest in the ques- 
tion, " How shall we be saved ?" If the object to be 
attained be of trifling importance, the manner of attain- 
ing it must be of little moment. What, then, is sal- 
vation ? It is a deliverance from the power and the 
consequences of sin. So long as we remain under the 
dominion of iniquity, our rational and moral constitution 
is contaminated and degraded. In such a condition, 
we are no more qualified to enjoy the exalted pleasures 
proper to our nature, than we should be to relish the 



484 

choicest viands with a vitiated palate, or to appreciate 
the glowing beauties of a landscape with a film upon 
our eyes. Whilst we submit to the control of our lower 
appetites and passions, or, in other words, whilst we are 
the slaves of sin, we are utter strangers to the elevated 
sentiments and ennobling pursuits of those who are 
guided by the principles of reason and the laws of God. 
Even if there were no penalty attached to vice — in its 
ruinous consequences, in the contempt of the world, in 
the disapprobation of Heaven, or in the forfeiture of 
future happiness, — there is a deadly pollution in its very 
nature. A sinner, admitted to " the society of the just 
made perfect," with the poisoned mantle of iniquity 
clinging around him, and " unrenewed in the spirit of 
his mind," would " feel a hell in heaven," and carry 
about in his own bosom, " the worm that dieth not and 
the fire that is not quenched." Deliverance, therefore, 
from the influence and pollution of sin, is the very ground- 
work of salvation. When rescued from the power of 
iniquity, we shall be virtually delivered from its conse- 
quences. Rising to the dignity of our rational nature, 
exercising the mastery over our own spirits, and walk- 
ing forth " in the beauty of holiness," we shall obtain 
the pardon graciously offered to the penitent, enjoy the 
tranquil approbation of our own minds, and be finally 
brought "to see the salvation of the Lord." If, there- 
fore, we desire to escape from the degradation and 
misery of sin, and to attain the highest honor and hap- 
piness of which our intellectual and moral nature is 
susceptible, not only in the world that now is, but also 
in that which is to come, we are prepared to investigate 
the source and the means of this "great salvation." 



485 

And does there exist any subject more worthy of our 
deep, and serious, and solemn consideration ? The 
highest interests of time and of eternity are intimately 
connected with the inquiry : and as there is no subject 
which has been more involved in mystery and miscon- 
ception, by the perverted ingenuity of man, so there is 
none which more requires us to dismiss all prepossession, 
and prejudice, and pride, and to submit our minds, with 
due humility, to the simple, unadulterated teachings of 
the divine records. " To the law and to the testimony," 
I appeal. My object, however, is not controversial ; 
and I shall endeavor, as far as possible, to refute pre- 
vailing errors, rather by a plain statement of the truth, 
than by a direct assault. 

Nothing can be more strange, or more lamentable, 
than the contradictory opinions entertained, even by 
candid and worthy Christians, on the all-important sub- 
ject of salvation — its origin, its extent, its nature, and 
the means by which it is accomplished. To these dif- 
ferent points, with others which may naturally spring 
out of their discussion, I propose to direct your serious 
and candid attention. 

I. Whence, then, did salvation originate ? To this 
question, those who assume the exclusive title of 
orthodox, reply — "It had its origin in the unbounded 
love of Jesus Christ, who suffered and died in the room 
and stead of sinners, (whose guilt was imputed to him,) 
and thereby made a full and perfect satisfaction to the 
Father, for all their transgressions." Now, if this doc- 
trine be founded in fact, the justice of God being 
completely satisfied, his mercy has no scope for its 
operation : a debt once paid, equity cancels the bond, 



486 

and the debtor stands exonerated. On this principle, 
sinners might demand salvation as a right; for, the 
debt being completely discharged by their " surety," no 
portion of it can lie against themselves! But, behold 
what a strange representation this makes of the charac- 
ter of God! It utterly deprives him of his mercy and 
free grace, exhibits him as an inexorable creditor de- 
manding " the uttermost farthing," and turns all the 
gratitude of the ransomed sinner to our Lord Jesus 
Christ, who has rescued him from "the vindictive jus- 
tice of the Father!" Besides, my brethren, is it not 
amazing, that such a course of procedure, should be 
alleged " to vindicate the justice of God." The ideas 
usually attached to justice are, that it rewards the vir- 
tuous and punishes the guilty ; but, in this strange doc- 
trine, God is represented as punishing the innocent, 
that the guilty may be permitted to escape ! 

Is there not enough in the very character of the Divine 
Being — in his untainted equity and unbounded benevo- 
lence, everywhere manifested around us — to exculpate 
Him from this wonderful imputation ? Are not the 
goodness and the mercy of the Lord, the secure anchor 
of our souls amidst all the trials and tempests of the 
world ? As the heart of the wanderer in a foreign land, 
still turns with gushing affection to the home of his 
fathers — as amidst all the blessings and calamities of 
life, the spirit yearns to pour the full tide of its feelings 
into one fond, confiding breast ; so does the infinite 
benevolence of our heavenly Father shine forth in 
blessed radiance amidst the other glorious attributes of 
his nature, and attract the grateful homage of every 
unbiassed mind and every generous heart. What the 



487 

sun is to the natural world, the centre of attraction of 
light and life, the goodness of God is to the blessed 
system of grace and truth. Blot the sun out of the 
firmament, and all would be darkness and desolation — 
remove the goodness and mercy of God, and his power 
and his wisdom would fill our hearts with sentiments 
of overwhelming terror. So speaks the voice of nature, 
and so proclaims the voice of revelation. " He is 
the author of every good and of every perfect gift." 
We learn, especially, that instead of remitting the 
punishment of sinners, on account of any satisfaction 
offered to his justice by our blessed Lord, the entire 
scheme of salvation through a Saviour was the spon- 
taneous act of his own " free grace" and unpurchased 
mercy ! God did not become placable because the Sa- 
viour died ; but, the Son came into the world as the 
unequalled gift of the Father's antecedent and un- 
bounded goodness. This is the unvarying language of 
our Lord Jesus Christ: "I came not of myself: of 
mine own self I can do nothing ; the words which I 
speak are not mine ; the Father who dvvelleth in me, 
he doeth the works. Why callest thou me good ? there 
is none good but one, that is, God ! " In the same spirit 
do all the Apostles speak : " Him hath God exalted 
with his right hand to be a Prince and a Saviour; 
whom he appointed both Lord and Christ. God com- 
mendeth his love towards us, in that, whilst we were 
yet sinners, Christ died for the ungodly : this was love, 
indeed ; not that we loved God, but that he first loved 
us, and gave his only-begotten Son, that whosoever 
believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting 
life:" and, in the emphatic words of the text, " We 



488 

have seen and do testify, that the Father sent the Son 
to be the Saviour of the world." I am at a loss to 
conceive, how any individual, with these and a thou- 
sand similar declarations before his eyes, can venture to 
ascribe our salvation to any other source than the un- 
equalled love and free grace of God. This great truth 
appears to stand as gloriously conspicuous in the Gospel 
dispensation, as the noon-day sun in the unclouded 
heavens. We see, w 7 e feel, that salvation flows from 
the same inexhaustible fountain of beneficence, which 
has so abundantly supplied the unfailing bounties of na- 
ture and of providence. To God, therefore, do we 
owe supreme affection, because He is supreme in grace 
and mercy. 

But, whilst there is only one original fountain of 
all goodness, the streams of beneficence flow out in 
various channels, " for the refreshing of the nations." 
The Almighty, though perfectly able to execute all his 
designs, immediately, and by the simple determination 
of his own irresistible will, often carries forward his 
plans of mercy by the instrumentality of agents and the 
intervention of means. In all these arrangements, he 
affords additional proofs of his benignity, by causing 
the agents of his will to enjoy their highest happiness 
in the execution of his designs. The yellow harvest 
rewards the salutary and peaceful toils of the husband- 
man ; the merchant is exhilarated by the pursuits of his 
trade ; and the philosopher luxuriates in the tranquil 
retirement of his study. In the great work of salvation, 
he has acted upon the same benevolent plan. " The 
Father sent the Son to be the Saviour of the world ;" 
and we are informed, that for the faithful execution of 



489 



the glorious work committed to his care, " God hath 
highly exalted him, given him a name which is above 
every name ; that in the name of Jesus every knee 
should bow, and every tongue confess that Christ is 
Lord, to the glory of God, the Father." There is no 
fact more unequivocally stated in the New Testament, 
than the sonship and subordination of our Lord Jesus 
Christ. It forms the leading feature in his own dis- 
courses, constitutes the frequent theme of the Apostles' 
preachings, and qualifies him for his mediatorial office. 
He is a Saviour by the express appointment of God. 
His very name, indeed, indicates his office. He is called 
Jesus, or Saviour, because " he shall save his people 
from their sins ;" and Christ, or the Anointed, because 
God set him apart, or appointed him, to carry forward 
the work of human salvation. In this character, he has 
received abundant power for the execution of the im- 
portant task committed to his care. " God hath exalted 
him with his right hand to be a Prince and a Saviour, 
to give salvation to Israel, and the remission of sins." 
We are also informed, " that God gave him the spirit 
without measure ;" for " it pleased the Father, that in 
him should all fullness dwell." Our blessed Lord, there- 
fore, is not only a Saviour, but a sufficient Saviour : 
" We are complete in Christ." And, although we dare 
not derogate from the supreme homage and gratitude 
due to the Father as the author of salvation, we are 
bound to cherish sentiments of the liveliest affection 
towards the Son, who, in the faithful execution of his 
high commission, manifested such amazing love towards 
sinful men, and laid us under obligations so vast and 
so enduring ! Let it not be said, that our gratitude to 
62 



490 

Christ must be lessened, by the consideration of his 
being only the executor of his Father's beneficent de- 
signs. Our parents, our friends, our earthly benefactors, 
are no more than the humble instruments of God's 
benevolence; but, shall we, therefore, cease to cherish 
the hallowed remembrance of all their affection — of all 
the sacrifices which they have made for our advantage, 
and of all the flowers which they have strewn upon the 
path of our mortal pilgrimage ? No, my brethren : 
whilst our hearts expand with reverential gratitude to 
the gracious Author of "all peace and consolation," we 
love, as we ought to love, the immediate agents of his 
bounty. It is thus, though with a higher and holier 
arTection, that we should love the Son of God, who 
voluntarily and disinterestedly undertook the work of 
our redemption, and who cheerfully submitted to such 
indignities and sufferings, in order to accomplish " our 
deliverance from sin and death." 

II. Having now endeavored to show the origin 
and medium of salvation, I shall proceed, on the same 
scriptural authority, to illustrate its extent. This is a 
point which it deeply concerns us all to understand* 
Whom, then, did the Son come to save ? The Cal- 
vinist replies, " He came to save the elect only : " For 
*' by the decree of God, some men and angels are pre- 
destinated unto everlasting life, and others to everlasting 
death ; and their number is so certain and definite, that 
it cannot be either increased or diminished. Those of 
mankind that are predestinated unto life, God, before 
the foundation of the world, chose in Christ, unto ever- 
lasting glory, without any foresight either of faith or 
good works, or any other thing in the creature, as con- 



491 

ditions moving him thereunto." On reading these 
words from the orthodox formularies of the Church of 
Scotland, one is at a loss to conceive, how men believing 
such doctrines can imagine, that there was any neces- 
sity for a Saviour, or that any advantage can accrue 
from his coming. If the numbers to be saved and con- 
demned have been immutably fixed by an eternal decree 
— if, moreover, they be " so certain and definite, that 
they cannot be either increased or diminished" — and if, 
still farther, " neither faith nor good works be necessary 
as conditions of salvation" — then was the Saviour sent 
into the world upon an unprofitable errand ; he taught, 
and lived, and died, in vain ; and all the precepts, pro- 
mises, and threatenings of the divine law, are but idle 
mockeries ! Those " predestinated unto everlasting 
life," do not require a Saviour ; and those " unchange- 
ably foreordained to everlasting death" can derive no 
benefit from his mission. All his labors of love can- 
not " snatch one brand from the burning," nor add one 
redeemed spirit to the number of the blessed ! If this 
doctrine be true, men are the blind instruments of a fatal 
destiny — without virtue or vice — disentitled to reward, 
and undeserving of punishment — exhorted to the dis- 
charge of duties which they have no power to perform, 
and mocked with promises of happiness which there is a 
predetermination not to fulfil ! Blessed be God, how- 
ever, such notions are merely " the inventions of men :" 
they are repudiated by the character of our Heavenly 
Father, and directly contradicted by the Divine Word. 
So far from the salvation which is in Christ Jesus, being 
intended only for "the elect few," it is offered, "free 
as the vital breeze or light of heaven," unto all. 



492 

" Look unto me, all ye ends of the earth, and be saved : 
Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, 
and ye shall find rest unto your souls : Christ hath 
tasted death for every man: The Father sent the Son 
to be the Saviour of the world." These are but a few 
out of a multitude of texts, which prove the univer- 
sality of the offer of salvation. " God would have all 
men to be saved ; " and, consequently, he must afford to 
all the means of being saved. The very fact, that 
" Christ came to save sinners," proves that he came for 
the benefit of all ; " for all have sinned, and come short 
of the glory of God." How beautiful is the light thus 
thrown upon the character of the Father, and the bene- 
volent mission of the Son ! Here is no stinted salva- 
tion : the offer of pardon is commensurate with the wants 
of mankind. " The world was dead in trespasses and 
sins ; " and Jesus came to save the world : the remedy 
is proportioned to the disease ; " in Christ Jesus there 
is plenteous redemption:" no one that comes hunger- 
ing and thirsting after righteousness, shall be cast out 
unrefreshed. 

What then? Shall all be saved? Yes, all that 
choose to be saved. The offer is full, generous, and 
universal : the grace is free : 

" Free to that sacred fountain, all, 
Without a price, may go." 

Yet, my brethren, let us not deceive ourselves, "nor 
turn the grace of God into lasciviousness," by making 
the Lord Jesus " a stone of stumbling and a rock of 
offence." The offer of pardon, through the Saviour, is 
free and universal, but it is not unconditional. There 
is no such thing spoken of in Scripture, as unconditional 



493 

salvation. It is true, that " a fountain is opened up for 
sin and for uncleanness," but if men refuse to wash in 
it, they cannot be purified. Does this impeach the good- 
ness of God, or the sufficiency of Christ ? No ; but it 
strongly enforces the free agency, and consequent mor- 
al responsibility, of man. Our Heavenly Father pursues 
the same plan in the systems of nature and of grace. 
Of his own free love, he blesseth the earth with fertility, 
enriches it with the refreshing dews of heaven, and ani- 
mates it with the genial rays of the sun : but, would all 
this munificence of itself, supply us with needful food 
and raiment ? No : if we folded our arms in idleness, 
and withheld " the sweat of our brow," we should per- 
ish in the very storehouse of nature's abundance. What- 
ever is essential to our well-being and beyond the reach 
of our exertions, is freely and generously bestowed ; but, 
whatever is attainable by the diligent exercise of the 
powers which God has conferred upon us, is never com- 
municated without the indispensable condition of exer- 
tion. In nature, in morals, in religion, the profitable 
employment of our faculties and opportunities, is equally 
the source of our prosperity and our peace. The mis- 
take of those who would limit salvation to a chosen few, 
is not greater in itself, though it certainly is less bene- 
volent, than the error of those who would extend salva- 
tion unconditionally to all. There is nothing in the cha- 
racter or in the word of God, to warrant either extreme. 
To confine his mercy to a determinate number, " with- 
out any regard to their faith or works," would be an 
insult to his goodness and impartiality : to extend it 
equally to all, without any condition of moral regenera- 
tion, would be an impeachment of his holiness and truth. 



494 

We are happily enabled to keep clear of both these 
extremes, by adopting the Scripture medium, which 
represents salvation as freely offered unto all, upon the 
condition of repentance and reformation. These were 
the terms of the old dispensation — " Wash ye, make 
you clean ; cease to do evil, learn to do well ; relieve 
the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow : 
then, though your sins be as scarlet they shall become 
white as snow, though they be red like crimson, they 
shall become as wool." Again : " Let the unrighteous 
man forsake his thoughts, and the ungodly man his 
way ; and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have 
mercy upon him, and to our God, and he will abundantly 
pardon !" The same spirit and principle pervade the 
whole of the new dispensation : no jot, no tittle of the 
moral law is repealed. u He that heareth my sayings 
and doeth them, the same it is that loveth me : not 
every one that saith Lord, Lord, shall be admitted into 
the kingdom of heaven, but he that doeth the will of 
my Father who is in heaven : repent ye, and be ye con- 
verted, that your sins may be blotted out." Here, you 
perceive, the terms are the same as in the Old Testa- 
ment ; for God is always the same ; free in grace, and 
plenteous in mercy ; abhorring sin as the degradation 
of his rational offspring ; and earnestly desiring their 
reformation, that they may be qualified to enjoy the 
felicity which his paternal love would bestow upon 
them. The Father, then, sent not the Son to be the 
Saviour of the world, by offering any new conditions of 
pardon, but to enforce the old conditions, by higher 
sanctions, and more influential motives. 

III. No mistake can be more fatal, or more at 



495 

variance both with the letter and spirit of the Gospel, 
than that which would represent the Lord Jesus as 
lessening, or annulling, or in any way undermining, the 
authority of the moral law, which " he came not to 
destroy, but to fulfil." This naturally leads us to in- 
quire into the nature of the salvation offered in the 
Gospel. From what are we to be saved ? '•' From the 
wrath of God," reply the self-styled evangelical : " The 
Lord Jesus came to reconcile the Father to us, by 
satisfying his offended justice, and making a full atone- 
ment for all our sins, through his own sufferings and 
death." This is the prized and prevalent doctrine 
of Christendom ; and, when we consider how consola- 
tory it is to human frailty, we cannot wonder at the 
tenacity with which it is held. Men have always been 
prone to cling for protection, to something external to 
themselves. To cultivate inward holiness and to prac- 
tise moral purity, costs too great a struggle with their 
interests and passions ; and, therefore, the great mass of 
mankind have always been disposed to substitute cere- 
monial observances for the uniform practice of duty, 
and to rely upon some mysterious influence to free them 
from the penalties of iniquity. Hence, the ablutions, 
and fasts, and tythe-payings, and long prayers of the 
Jews — hence, the confessions, and absolutions, and 
pompous ceremonies of Catholicism — and hence, the 
Protestant errors of salvation by faith alone, and a vica- 
rious atonement. How deplorably anxious we are, to 
shuffle off our moral responsibility, and to be saved any 
way, rather than by amendment ! The popular view of 
atonement is built upon this fundamental error — that 
Christ came to save us from the wrath of God. The 



496 

wrath of God ! Why, " God is love ; " and so far from 
Jesus coming to save us from his anger, he is, himself, 
the offspring and the pledge of unbought and unmerited 
compassion. " God so loved the world, that he sent his 
only- begotten Son, to seek and. to save that which was 
lost." Immutable in his nature, no change has been 
wrought, or can be wrought in the Divine mind : " He 
loved us from the first of time ; he'll love us to the last." 
The Father sent the Son, therefore, not to reconcile 
himself unto us, but " to reconcile us unto God," by 
" turning us away from our iniquities, and renewing 
right spirits within us." This is equally the language 
of common sense and of Scripture. Man sinned and 
became justly liable to punishment; God beheld him 
with compassion, and sent his Son to deliver him from 
sin and death. " And ye shall call his name Jesus ; for 
he shall save his people from their sins "—not in their 
sins, as so many would have us to believe. Being freed 
from the power and practice of iniquity, we thus become 
reconciled unto God through Jesus Christ ; and this 
reconciliation is the true meaning of the atonement 
mentioned by the Apostle. 

With regard to the " human invention " called vica- 
rious atonement, which alleges that all the sins of all 
mankind, past, present, and to come, were transferred 
to our blessed Saviour, who, by his sufferings on the 
cross, paid the full price to his Father's justice for them 
all, such a doctrine is equally opposed to common sense, 
to the character of God, and to the Scriptures of truth. 
In an early part of this discourse, I demonstrated, that 
such a procedure, instead of vindicating the Divine 
equity, virtually involved, in one transaction, a double 



497 

act of injustice : but, were it even allowable to suppose 
without blasphemy, that God could punish the innocent 
as a substitute for the guilty, the transfer of sin is, in 
its own nature, impossible. Guilt is personal, and can- 
not be transferred. Sin is an act of disobedience ; and 
no person can possibly be viewed as guilty of that act, 
except the individual who absolutely committed it. 
Another, indeed, may be punished for the crime ; but 
he would not, therefore, be guilty ; and his punishment, 
would be an act of the most flagrant injustice. Upon 
this incontrovertible principle, no sins were transferred 
to Christ, and he must have come to the cross of Cal- 
vary, " without spot or biemish." This view of the 
case perfectly accords with the statement of the sacred 
writer, who declares, " that he was brought as a lamb 
to the slaughter," and that " he suffered, the just, on 
account of the unjust." Besides, it is not conceivable, 
that the corporeal sufferings even of the guilty could 
afford " satisfaction" to that God who is a spirit ; much 
less, that he could be satisfied with the agonies of his 
innocent and well-beloved Son, endured " in the room 
and stead of actual transgressors." But, if it be indeed 
the fact, " that Christ did fully satisfy the justice of the 
Father, and did pay an ample equivalent for all sins," 
how can the orthodox account for this other unquestioned 
fact, that all men, at the day of judgment, shall really 
be responsible for their own offences ? " The righteous- 
ness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wicked- 
ness of the wicked shall be upon him ; the soul that 
sinneth, it shall die ; for, every man shall bear his own 
burthen !" If Christ truly bore the burthens of all, and 
once for all, upon what principle of common sense, or 
63 



498 

common justice, can men be required to bear them 
again ? I ask, farther, does any man believe, or will he 
venture to assert, that the death of the Lord Jesus did, 
in any way, lessen the weight of human responsibility ? 
Would not this be, to represent the Saviour as the 
abettor and encourager of sin ? But does not every 
man know and feel, that instead of his responsibility 
being diminished by his embracing Christianity, that it 
is infinitely augmented ? And do we not, in this unde- 
niable fact, perceive the true nature of salvation, and the 
grand object of our Saviour's mission — that he came, 
not to save us from the wrath of the Father, but from 
the pollution of sin — not to afford a mysterious satisfac- 
tion to the justice of heaven, but to establish the empire 
of virtue upon earth — not to alter the purposes of the 
immutable God, but to reclaim and regenerate sinful 
and fallible man ? 

IV. This brings me, in the last place, to state the 
means by which Christ becomes the Saviour of the 
world. From what has been already advanced, it is evi- 
dent, that all the plans adopted by Divine Wisdom for 
the salvation of rational and accountable beings, must 
be suitable to their intellectual and moral nature. There 
is no mystery in the grand work of redemption. No 
unjust substitution of the innocent for the guilty pro- 
duced a change in the divine purposes: no supernatural 
and irresistible influence affects the future and final 
condition of man. All has been regulated in perfect 
consistency with the character of a God of infinite wis- 
dom, equity, and goodness ; and without trenching 
upon the foundation of all moral obligations — the free- 
agency and accountability of human beings. How, 



499 

then, does the Son become the Saviour of the world ? 
I shall endeavor to answer this important question, by 
a i'ew brief and condensed statements, rather than by 
enlarged and illustrative details. 

In the first place, the Son becomes a Saviour by 
displaying the character of the Father, in all its native 
purity, loveliness, and benignity. Although there is no 
opposition between the representation of God, given in 
the law, and that which we find in the Gospel, there is, 
unquestionably, a clearer manifestation of his attributes, 
and a more glorious lustre thrown around him, in the 
new dispensation of grace and peace. In the Gospel 
he does not speak in thunder, as upon Sinai, " amidst 
blackness, darkness, and tempest," but in the hallowed 
strains of angels, proclaiming " peace on earth and good- 
will to man ! " The very mission of our Saviour, on an 
errand of mercy to a perishing world, would be suffi- 
cient, of itself, to invest the character of God with a 
transcendent loveliness arid benignity. Although ex- 
periencing, in the unbounded perfection of his own 
nature, the plenitude of all glory and felicity, and totally 
independent of the praises and services of all created 
beings, he graciously condescended to send his Messen- 
ger before his face, to restore a lost world to the enjoy- 
ment of virtue and happiness. Looking upon him 
through " Christ the Saviour," the awfulness of his 
wisdom and power is tempered by the gentle influence 
of his transcendent goodness ; and we learn to love 
him in his paternity, to adore him in his spirituality, 
and " to put our trust in him for his mercy's sake." 
Thus, the solid ground-work of our virtue, and conse- 
quently of our salvation, is laid in that filial piety to- 



500 

wards God, which inspires us with a devout reverence 
of his adorable character, and has the most powerful 
tendency to engage us in a grateful and acceptable 
obedience to his beneficent laws. 

In the second place, Christ becomes the Saviour of 
the world, by showing, in an especial manner, the value 
and acceptableness of repentance. We learn, that his 
forerunner, the Baptist, went throughout Judea, "say- 
ing, Repent ye ; for the kingdom of heaven is at hand :" 
and the first account which we have of his own preach- 
ing runs in the very same words: "From that time 
Jesus began to preach, and to say, Repent; for the 
kingdom of heaven is at hand." Indeed, the encourage- 
ment of repentance, as essential to salvation, appears to 
be the prominent object of the New Testament dispen- 
sation. The reason is obvious. As sin is the degrada- 
tion of the soul, which alienates it from God, and 
disqualifies it for the enjoyment of rational happiness, so 
repentance is the first step towards the restoration of 
purity and peace. Until we are " convinced of sin," 
we can entertain no sorrow for our offences ; and, until 
we cherish contrition, we can have no amendment. 
But, how is this contrition to be promoted ? Undoubt- 
edly, in the first place, by showing its value and prac- 
ticability : and, it is here, that the grace of God, in our 
Lord Jesus Christ, is peculiarly displayed. Were there 
no pardon for past offences, " were judgment laid to 
the line, and righteousness to the plummet," the sinner, 
knowing that "he could not answer for one of a thousand 
of his iniquities," would sink down in the despondency, 
or rush forward in the recklessness, of despair. Con- 
scious that his past transgressions were more than suf- 



501 

ficient for his condemnation, he would have no hope, 
and consequently, would make no exertion. But, when 
he is convinced, that, through the unmerited goodness 
of God, as revealed in Jesus, all his past sins will be 
freely pardoned and blotted out, his heart is inspired 
with the energy of gratitude and hope ; and he braces 
himself to regain that self-control which he had lost, 
and the approbation of Heaven which he had forfeited. 
But, we should ever remember, that whilst Jesus 
thus becomes a Saviour by teaching that doctrine which 
has so powerful a tendency to promote the regeneration 
of our spirits, or, in other words, the renewal of our 
principles and dispositions, no repentance is truly deserv- 
ing of the name, which is not followed by " newness of 
life." It is not enough that we "repent," or entertain 
sorrow for sin ; we must likewise " be converted," or 
changed in our principles and habits, before " our sins 
shall be blotted out." This is the doctrine of common 
sense, and of the gospel : a mere feeling without a 
result — a mere determination without action — is of no 
more value than a tree without fruit. And, hence it is, 
that we are so repeatedly exhorted " to bring forth 
fruits meet for repentance." And, here, again, the 
Lord Jesus becomes the Saviour of the world. As he 
was sent " to call sinners to repentance, and to bring 
them unto God," he has placed the volume of duty 
before their eyes, in so clear a light and in such legible 
characters, that " he who runs may read." But, he has 
done more than ever entered into the dreams of states- 
men, or philosophers, or moralists. They have been 
content with regulating the conduct ; he begins with 
the heart : they have attempted to purify the stream ; 



502 

he cleanses the fountain : they have tried to renovate 
the tree by lopping away its rotten branches ; he re- 
moves the canker at the root. " Blessed are the pure 
in heart, for they shall see God." And why shall they 
see God ? Because from an uncorrupted fountain, un-. 
tainted waters will necessarily flow. Read the Gospel, 
and say, in what duty to God or man you would be 
deficient, did you observe its precepts — what crime, 
offensive to your Creator, injurious to your brethren, or 
destructive to your own peace, you would commit, were 
you guided by its laws. You know, you feel, that the 
Gospel is not only a code of righteousness, but a law of 
love ; and that it desires to wean you from sin, that it 
may save you from misery. Put the matter honestly 
to your own hearts — what serious calamity, what justly 
poignant sorrow, have you ever experienced, that might 
not be traced, either immediately or remotely, to your 
unchristian disobedience ? In bringing you, therefore, 
to repentance — in rescuing you from the dominion of 
sin in your own hearts, and the practice of sin in your 
own lives — do you not feel that Christ would " verily 
become unto you, the power of God unto salvation ?" 

But, he is still farther the Saviour of the world, in 
his pure and influential example. He has not only 
taught, but fulfilled, all righteousness; and thereby 
shown us the practicability of the duties which he 
enjoined. He did not, like the Scribes and Pharisees, 
" lay heavy burthens upon other men's shoulders, which 
he would not even touch with his own little finger ; " he 
lived in the unbroken practice of every virtue which he 
recommended : thereby " setting us an example that 
we might follow in his steps." In humble and fervent 



503 

piety towards God — in generous forgiveness and com- 
passion towards men — in untainted personal righteous- 
ness — he stands forth the glorious pattern of all those 
virtues and graces, which are calculated to bestow up- 
on us the happiness of time, and to secure us the bless- 
edness of eternity. 

Our exalted Master farther becomes the Saviour of 
the world in the motives to obedience, which are con- 
tained in the Gospel. The most influential of these 
motives is the glorious doctrine of a future life, connect- 
ed with a day of judgment. Previously to his appear- 
ing, clouds and darkness brooded over the prospects of 
another world. The wisest men were in doubt ; the 
best men hoped and feared : they had only " dawnings 
of beams, and promises of day; but, "Jesus Christ 
brought life and immortality clearly to light." Associ- 
ated with this sublime truth, he also taught, that there 
will be a day of judgment— a day " for the revelation 
of the secrets of all hearts and lives — a day, in which 
all men, being raised from the dead, shall be judged 
according to the things done in the body, whether they 
have been good, or whether they have been evil." And, 
we have Scripture authority for believing, that this 
transcendent gift of immortality has been peculiarly 
conferred upon us, by our Lord and Saviour, Jesus 
Christ, through " his perfect obedience unto death." 
Here, then, brethren, we have a motive of the mightiest 
magnitude, to lead us to the avoidance of sin and the 
practice of virtue — or, in other words, " to work out our 
own salvation." This great doctrine confers an infinite 
importance upon our principles and our conduct. And, 
assuredly, he who has taught us that the weal or wo 



504 

of an eternal world depends upon the sentiments which 
we cherish and the duties which we perform in this 
present life, thereby affords the most powerful motives 
to holiness, and pre-eminently contributes to promote 
our salvation. 

Christ also becomes a Saviour by his sufferings and 
death. No man who reads the New Testament, with 
an open, candid mind, can dispute this fact. The suf- 
ferings, the death, the cross of Christ, are constantly 
referred to, as crowning circumstances in the Gospel 
dispensation. But, in what sense are they so important? 
Do they exercise a mysterious influence with God, or 
work a supernatural change in men ? On the immu- 
table God, they can produce no change ; but, on man 
they are, assuredly, eminently calculated to operate as 
rational and moral inducements, of exceeding power. 
The sufferings and death of Christ bring him home to 
our hearts and our affections. Had he appeared upon 
earth in the majesty of uncontrollable power, surrounded 
by the angels of heaven, or the potentates of the world 
— had he passed his days in receiving homage, and en- 
joying pleasures — and had he, after a triumphant 
sojourn, ascended without suffering to the realms of 
everlasting happiness — had such been his condition, we 
might have viewed him with admiration or awe, but 
we could not so have loved him, as when we now be- 
hold him, " a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief," 
voluntarily leading a life of wretchedness, and dying a 
death of ignominy and torture, in order to secure for 
us the dearest blessings of time and of eternity. In 
his humiliation, and sufferings, and death, we have 
the most unequivocal testimony of his disinterested 



505 

love, his devoted sincerity, and his unshaken fortitude. 
Our hearts go forth to meet him, glowing with human 
sympathies ; and our understandings admit the evidence 
of his divine mission, in the magnitude of his earthly 
sacrifices. We feel, too, more deeply, the destructive 
tendency of sin, when we consider that all his labors of 
love were undertaken to annihilate its power and its 
consequences. Thus do the sufferings and death of our 
blessed Lord contribute to the salvation of the world, by 
acting as rational persuasives to the love of the Father 
and the Son ; by affording powerful evidence of the 
divine authority of Christianity ; and by teaching us to 
abhor sin as. offensive to God, and destructive to man. 
To all this may be added, that his death was necessary 
to establish the great doctrine of the resurrection of the 
body ; which is so frequently mentioned in the Apostolic 
writings, as a fact of the deepest interest and import- 
ance. 

Finally : The Father hath appointed the Son to be 
the Saviour of the world, by his mediation and inter- 
cession. The doctrine of a mediator, through whom 
God confers the most valuable blessings upon men, and 
through whom men are to solicit the continued favor 
of heaven, is laid down with the utmost distinctness in 
the sacred records. An explanation, however, of this 
important doctrine, would protract a discourse, which is 
already too long, to an unreasonable extent : but of this 
we may rest assured, that, in whatever way the media- 
tion and intercession of our blessed Lord operate 
towards our salvation, they in no sense interfere with 
the free-grace of God, and the moral responsibility of 
man. In truth, they only join with the other means 
64 



506 

which have been stated, to accomplish the benevolent 
end of the christian dispensation — the salvation of the 
world. 

In conclusion, brethren, let us remember, that as sin 
produced the necessity of a Saviour, so to remove sin 
must have been the object of his coming. Whilst, 
therefore, we continue in sin, the mission of Christ has 
not accomplished its design in us. He came " to redeem 
us from all iniquity, and to purify us unto himself a 
peculiar people, zealous of good works.'- Let us keep 
this truth constantly before our minds ; and consider 
that the test of our decipleship consists not in our name, 
or our profession, but in our spirit, and our obedience. 
We boast that we are rational Christians : let us main- 
tain our title to the honorable appellation, by our 
affectionate attachment to our Redeemer, sincere charity 
to man, and humble piety to God. Thus, we shall 
secure our own peace, advance the cause of truth, and 
receive the approbation of heaven. " And now, may 
He who alone is able to keep us from falling, establish 
and strengthen us in all things, through Jesus Christ, 
our Saviour." Amen. 



PRAYER. 

Father of mercies, and God of all peace and of all 
consolation, we desire to draw near unto Thee, with 
humble, contrite, and grateful spirits. We earnestly 
desire to be clothed with humility, as frail and depen- 
dent creatures ; to cultivate contrition, as we are sinful 



507 

and unworthy ; and to cherish feelings of unbounded 
gratitude, as the constant object of thy providential 
care. Firmly believing that Thou art, rejoicing in the 
glorious attributes of thy nature, and viewing Thee as 
the author of every good and of every perfect gift, we 
would call upon our souls and all that is within us, to 
magnify and bless thy holy name. In a world of dif- 
ficulties and trials, Thou hast wonderfully sustained us : 
thy providence has been our safeguard and our consola- 
tion : Thou hast redeemed our lives from destruction, 
and crowned us with loving-kindness and with tender 
mercies. 

We adore Thee heavenly Father, for the rank 
which Thou has assigned us in creation ; for our intel- 
lectual and moral powers ; for our social affections and 
temporal blessings. We desire, above all things, to 
praise Thee for the gift of immortality, and for the 
means of attaining everlasting happiness. We bless 
Thee, that this great doctrine has been taught, and 
those gracious means afforded us through thy well- 
beloved Son, Jesus Christ. We joyfully accept of him, 
as the Saviour whom Thou hast sent to bring sinners to 
repentance, and to prepare them for an inheritance, 
incorruptible, undefiled and that fadeth not away. We 
humbly desire to walk in him, as the way, and the truth, 
and the life ; we receive him as our Lord and Master ; 
we trust in him as our Mediator and Intercessor ; and 
we look forward to the solemn day, when, by thine 
appointment, he shall be our final Judge. 

Heavenly Father, may we be enabled to walk as it 
becometh the children of so many mercies. May we 
enjoy temporal blessings with cheerful minds and grate- 



508 

ful hearts ; may we submit with patience to earthly suf- 
ferings, as the chastisements of a Parent for our good : 
and may the Gospel of Christ effect in us its perfect 
work ; humbling our proud thoughts, subduing our vain 
and sinful desires, and leading us to repentance and 
newness of life. May we duly reflect that the great 
object of religion is to make us wise and holy ; to free 
us from the pollution as well as from the guilt of sin ; 
to reconcile us unto Thee, by turning us away from ini- 
quity ; and to fit us, by the faithful discharge of the 
duties of time, for the enjoyment of the happiness of 
eternity. Forbid it, that we should continue in sin, 
because thy grace hath abounded ; but grant, that thy 
love, in the mission of thy Son, our Saviour, may espe- 
cially constrain us to work righteousness. 

Merciful Father, forgive our sins, hear our prayers, 
and accept of us in peace, through Jesus Christ, our 
Lord. 



THE END. 



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